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fakesurprise · 1 year

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The Sundered Wood

I had come prepared to kill a dragon. It wasn’t that the ancient wyrm that haunted and hunted the Sundered Woods was a dragon, but more than anything that could kill a dragon could definitely kill things that were not dragons. I had the Cutting Blade, enough holy water to banish a true demon, a cloak woven from shadow silk and a few tricks almost no one knew about, and a few I knew no one else knew about. It wasn’t an official job I had, working for the emperor. I was clever, and sneaky, and I could break into buildings and leave not even a magical trace behind.

None of which fit ‘go and destroy a wyrm’ but the emperor had been quite firm in what the empress said for him. No monsters had come out of the Wood in over two years, and that had those in power concerned for reasons beyond my knowing. I knew there were rare herbs in the Sundered Wood that the empire needed, and they had send in Jeric Sunbane in – and the necromancer had failed.

I had been given the Cutting Blade before I could even question the empire making deals with a necromancer and mostly left the greater palace in a daze. The sword looked small and thin, in a simple sheathe by my side. Legends claimed it had been found more than made, and it was known as the only weapon that could harm the emperor at all. The weapon had shrunk to fit my grip, and no one been surprised.

I was given a cloud dog for the journey, and six days passed in travel over the empire. Wide roads, safe fields, bustling towns. And beyond it all the magical dome that was the will of the emperor, holding back enemies both real and imagined. I passed through, and the world shifted to slightly greyer skies, a slight chill in the air. After two days of travel, the towns were worn, the people carried open weapons and trusted no one – probably not even themselves. Every field was fenced, and wild boars roamed the open spaces like monsters from old stories.

Somewhere, far beyond the Sundered Woods, lay a home I had never seen.

Every time I left the empire, I had less and less reason to try and find it.

The Sundered Woods were at least easy to find: the trees were tall, thin and ugly, the forest untouched by settlements. Even the deep folk didn’t mine under the Sundered Woods. The air seemed a perpetual fog, and I landed in a field of skeletal bodies. Hundreds. Thousands. A whole army that Jeric had called up, which had failed to get further than an hour into the woods.

I dismissed the cloud dog with a hug and entered, making no noise as I walked over the newly re-dead corpses. After the hour, even I was noticing the darkness. Strange insects buzzed and moved, and I was watched by birds that were not birds at all. I did not draw the Cutting Blade. I had a sword forged by one of the six blind bain smiths, and poison on the blade that would make most freeze and never move again.

The blade could cut through other steel with ease, and possibly dragonscale, though I didn’t know of anyone who had tried it. No one had seen a true dragon in centuries and a small part of me was excited about the wyrm. After two hours, the sounds of the forest had blended to become this not-silence of noise. After three, I put the blade away. The dead had not stirred even once, which was a surprise: necromancer’s workings tended to continue for a long time. It was one reason among many they had been banned from the empire.

The fox came down from a tree slowly. Stretching, being seen. Fur the colour of a ripened plum and eyes that gleamed with dancing colours.

“You didn’t come with an army.” The fox’s voice was rich, urbane. That a fox spoke the imperial tongue was somehow not a surprise: there were stories of mages enchanting animals, though none of those ended well as they had all involved the giving of gifts which were not gifts at all.

“I was sent to slay the wyrm.”

“Ah.” The fox stared down at me from a branch. “There is a clearing in the centre of the Sundered Woods. It is not far.”

“What happened to the undead?” I asked.

“Sunlight.” The fox laughed, eyes dancing. “Your holy water is holy: why can words not also make light holy?”

I paused, and had no idea what to say to that.

The fox paused for a moment in turn; it felt as if the entire forest stilled with it. “Be careful.”

I considered myself a most careful person, but I nodded. “I shall try.”

I walked on, and the fox did not follow.

Night came even to the Sundered Wood. I lit a lantern meant for thieving and walked on.

The clearing I came to was as large as some smaller forests: patches of brush, several hills, rolling moss on the ground. No boars; I realized I had seen none in the Wood at all, and was not certain what to make of that.

I moved stealthier than a shadow, the Cutting Blade in one hand as I scanned the area. The ground was odd, moss in different shades, uprooted and shifted in places where the wrym had come from below the earth.

“I trust you are here for a reason?” a voice said mildly behind me.

I spun to face an unarmed human. He was fourteen, with rather well-made clothing and a strange accent which spoke of lands far from the empire. He had no weapons; neither did he seem worried about mine.

“Do you hunt the wyrm as well?”

He stared town at me and blinked, once. “Not in any way you mean, no.”

Necromancer’s tended to not have apprentices. But little else could explain this stranger or the fact that he seemed wholly unafraid.

I moved, and the air thrummed as the Cutting Blade cut through it, leaving behind a faint blue wound as if the air itself had been sliced through.

He stepped aside. Somehow, faster than even I could move, he stepped aside seemingly without worry.

I swung again, and this time he moved backwards out of range of a second swing.

“Interesting. That could cut me,” he said softly. “A verkonis blade, far from where they were made.”

I straightened. I could have attacked again. I knew it wouldn’t matter. I was fast, but he was too fast for mere skill, even mine. “Who are you? Where is the wyrm?”

“It left to become a dragon. I was merely visiting, and the necromancer was quite rude. That does tend to be a failing of people like that.” He sighed. “And your emperor heard of me, and sent you to kill me.”

“I was sent to kill a dragon.”

“I am not a dragon, at least not right now.”

“Shapechanger.” I didn’t draw the weapon again. There were stories, and most agreed such creatures could only die to magic. I had some small magics, but only small ones for all my private boasts.

“Not in the sense that you mean. I am a traveller, passing through this place and bound for other lands. You are far from your land,” and he said a word then, which I did not know at all.

Something passed through his eyes which was not calm at all.

“You don’t even know your name. Nor the name of your people.”

I had several, depending on need and moment, but offered up none then.

“I could stay, but I am needed at a wedding.” He smiled, and the smile was so gentle I almost forgot how dangerous he had to be. “I also need to visit Nomen and Sevras again and find a way past –.”

He paused, eyes unfocused. “But that does not mean I should not do good here as well.”

And he touched my forehead, lightly, with a finger.

I saw the emperor.

I saw the source of the barrier, and how it drains the rest of the world to keep the empire strong.

I saw the empress, and I knew why no necromancers were allowed within the empire, for they would learn her terrible secret.

“My home? My people?” I said, and I almost did not recognize my own voice.

“Those you will need to find on your own, and learn what truths you will.”

“You have power.”

“Not your kind, or one meant for this place.” There was a steel in his eyes that I was certain nothing could ever cut, and he let out a breath. “This is your adventure, and it would only be cruel if I took it from you.”

“To – return home? Not to destroy the empire?”

“That seems bigger than a single adventure, and certainly not something one does alone.” He smiled again, gently soft, as he stepped back. “The blade won’t help you, not in a way you think.”

“It scares you.”

“Many things do. Sometimes I think that fears increase with power: you can do more, and so you have more to protect, more to aid, and far more to care for. The emperor does what he does because he cares, and judges the cost worth it.”

I set the blade down.

He picked it up, and it vanished from view with a flick of his wrist. “If things go – poorly, I may be able to aid you in the future.”

And he said his name, which I will not utter here and hope to never do at all.

And he was gone, and I never saw the wyrm. I do not know what became of it, nor the woods. It has been many years, and I am still seeking home, and those who are like me.

Perhaps I will never find them. But I am also seeking allies. I have seen enough of the world to know that the empire cannot continue as it has.

If any wish to aid me, I will not turn it down. We will not survive a battle with the emperor and empress, but we may ensure a better world exists once they are gone. You could call yourself a hero, if you wish: we will die, and being a hero is not something people survive.

But some things are worth the cost, even if no one knows how much we will pay.

#writing #prose #magician series #future jay stories

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vardasvapors · 7 years

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Do you have any Lindon headcanons, if so please throw ALL of them at me because I have zero and it's terrible. This was more Elrond-centric bc I've been trying to fill in that thousand-year gap between Elros and war but then I realised how LITTLE I can actually picture of... the biggest Elven kingdom in Middle-earth... Galadriel's off collecting fairie court campsites, and Celebrimbor's kickstarting a magic object Renaissance, and what's every other elf doing this millennium? I just don't know!

omg i’ve lazily on-and-off thought about making a wip list of vague Lindon headcanons before so this is the perfect excuse. hope you don’t mind me limiting this to just the timeframe you mentioned, or this post would be WAY too long, instead of just regularly too long:

First: observe, my Lindon tag! It’s not very long, but

This and especially this are some of my favorite headcanon visuals for Second Age Mithlond as a capital city. Starting as a giant camp for everyone who escaped from Beleriand, lots of flux, more like a RL city than most Tolkien cities: gorgeous, but very disorganized, patchwork, built up ad-hoc, happenstance and convenience slowly rising into districts. All the people stopping in it or passing through it, either east or west, leave another layer of their presence there. um….I still haven’t read invisible cities despite buying it because of bamboocounting like….months ago. Anyway it’s 90% turned to dust by LOTR.

With abruptly going from lush inland forested river-filled Ossiriand to this newly-formed bluff-edged shoreland with a huge new saltwater gulf splitting it down the middle, I headcanon it being a pretty big mess for decades. Before Galadriel took a lot of them to Eregion, I picture all the characters you mention spending a lot of time on fixing up – collecting and reuniting scattered people, building houses, establishing diplomatic ties and supply chains, etc.

eg: there is very little formality or ingrained institutions and no palaces full of comforts let alone luxuries for at LEAST a century, thanks

BUT, the fixing-up period being mostly a very happy time! Like, I think there was certainly a ton of hardship and stress with trying to keep people fed and housed in this chaotic near-post-apocalyptic situation while new villages and stuff were built, and fighting stray dark creatures who had also escaped, but still a lot of general relief and feelings of being insanely fortunate and curious exploration, finally free from being under constant overwhelming threat again even if this peace is quite a different kind from the peace before Morgoth returned, going hand-in-hand with the work, and building together as a conduit for bonding and feasting etc – and celebration and joy as deliberate defiance against the loss and grief and war they suffered. I think this real-world thing would fit it well.

Not a very big population at first, since not a lot survived at all, and most of the elves went to Eressea and most of the humans went to Numenor, and most of the Sindar who remained went east. I headcanon the early “kingdom” as more…scattered villages along the shore with a large but transient population concentration around the Havens because most of those were just looking for their friends and relatives and waiting for seats to open up on the constant flood of ships heading west, and when the passengers finally dwindle down this distribution has taken root and multiplied, but not a really powerful force until post-The Mariner’s Wife.

After the establishment period, now that it FINALLY isn’t a time of war, after centuries of it, elves start having babies all over the fucking place, and all the accoutrements that go with it. Dozens of new and half-forgotten festival days that are literally just giant bacchanalias, zillions of weddings, society shifting to be very oriented towards sex and romance and children and child-rearing, rather than warfare, etc. With this showing up a lot in their songs, and art, and lifestyle, etc.

One of the most delightful Lindon-adjacent nuggets in the Histories of Middle Earth I think is that elves of Lindon spent at least 50 years, if not more, ferrying the Edain to Numenor. I won’t repeat the tag ramble I appended to that passage here, but just… *blows kisses off fingers* it’s so absurd and fitting….I think of this as a big post-war self-image thing, the cataclysm and Morgoth’s defeat just so utterly scrambling their view of the world and their role in it. >_o

Speaking of that, not a lot of cultural continuity between the Noldor of the First Age and the Noldor of Lindon. The people of Cirdan and therefore at first for Gil-galad were the Falathrim, so I hc that especially after lots of Noldor left for Tol Eressea and Eregion the dominant culture of Lindon was a blendy Falathrim twist.

But that’s mostly just dominant as a plurality – the real “main culture” of Lindon is the hodge-podge mixture itself. Exiles who stayed because they wanted to, exiles who stayed because they are ex-Feanorians or otherwise can’t face going back or aren’t allowed. Descendants of exiles, mixed Noldor/Sindar elves who weren’t even born during the early Silm. Noldor who feel totally alienated from everything, Noldor who feel more connected to their fellow people of Sirion than to the Noldor generally. Survivors of Gondolin, survivors of Nargothrond, Sindar who didn’t want to go east, Edain who didn’t go to Numenor, Edain who are just waiting around to go to Numenor, Dwarves who had to leave the Blue Mountains due to them being broken up in the war, other peoples of all kinds, who all scrambled convergently to Lindon to flee the incoming war and water like ants. The areas of Lindon, and the districts of Mithlond, array themselves as reflections of, or deliberate eschewings of, the weird headlong rush into intertwining and splitting apart and morphing into new things that characterizes late Silm-era dynamics and groups.

In addition to pre-existing Falathrim attitudes about the sea, a major cultural/religious/etc tradition would spring up in Lindon in relation to the sea – the destructive, overwhelming, healing, saving, unfathomable, un-tameable, enticing, perilous sea that broke the earth, yet cleansed it, destroyed both enemies and homes, the place that now holds everything that Beleriand was in its depths, the place that deliverance came from. Kind of a less cynical but still very terrified version of Voronwë’s complete lack of chill about it. Sea-longing and going to sea and either never coming back or not coming back the same carves out a major place in their understanding of the world. One of the Standard Identities available to a segment of the popular in Lindon is like, “oh, he’s Waiting For A Ship,” An overlap of understanding grows between them and the Numenoreans over this. Ahem. Feel free.

eg: great Implied Significance for the new shoreline and the gulf of Lhûn as the place where Beleriand broke off and sank. References to these places as idioms to refer to being just past the furthest reach of a calamity, or a now-innocuous reminder of past calamity, or the duality of homecoming and escape

also eg: “lmao X is as unpredictable as the Lhûn amirite #microclimates”

the Numenoreans love them, but are sort of boggled by them. They have the same strange varied mixture and mood swings of cheer and gloom and Issues as the ex-Exiles and ex-Sindar of Tol Eressea, but the Numenoreans don’t entirely understand why they stuck with Middle Earth, for after a few generations have passed, the Numenoreans can only really guess, from their own lore, what having life experiences that were once concurrent with the long-distant sufferings of their Edain ancestors might be like. The Tol Eressean elves, on their island of release, are easier to understand, they’re sort of like us! But what of these weirdos back east – and that way lies the peril of like…you know. Everything wild, that Numenor is not

ETA: Later, when they realize the shadow has returned, this slow kind of infuriated disillusioned backslide…like, really? really? again? and the buildup back to war being really grim and depressing, though a minority of them always knew something like this would happen again. And rising conflict short of outright hostility with Eregion. People relearning to be soldiers again…or generals…

#vaporous answers #lindon #the silmarillion #second age #long post #sorry this isn't SUPER isolatedly-headcanony most of my headcanons would work better in fic #i didn't want to make this post any longer for off-topic rambling that probably only you are looking for atm!#but #if you are still looking specifically for elrond stuff the two main points i think are:#'Time was when a squirrel could go from tree to tree from what is now the Shire to Dunland west of Isengard.#In those lands I journeyed once and many things wild and strange I knew. But I had forgotten Bombadil'#and #remember how the numenoreans started preparing the coasts bc the elves asked them to aid middle earth. but then they became assholes #long before the war with sauron #i'm wondering if anyone has any ideas about how elrond and tar-aldarion might have gotten along lmao

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paimon-rambles · 3 years

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Do you know any romance tropes :0 ?

It's like childhood friends , enemy to lovers , etc .

Can you do those for some the boys , you can pick which ones but can you include Xiao in there please ? Thank you so much in advance !

As Romance Tropes

Characters: Childe, Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Xiao, Venti

Warnings: None

Notes: Aaaaaaa I love this so much, I hope you like it ! ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ

- Childe

Enemies to lovers, you're both on opposing sides fighting for opposite causes. It started with battles between the two, fighting with all wits and skills. Every week you find yourself sparring with the Fatui Harbinger aiming to beat the other and every week you find yourself growing enthralled by him. Childe always kept you on your toes, testing your limits and giving you a thrill whenever you fought. It's strange, you're supposed to hate him, so why do you miss him so much?

Opposites attract, you both having nothing in common, your personalities reflect each other like a mirror. Complete opposites. He's a cunning man not afraid to test his limits, you're a shy and timid person keeping to yourself. You both meet by chance and it becomes a wild goose chase from there.

- Albedo

Stuck together, you both prepared for the journey to dragonspine, but despite how much you prepared you weren't ready to find yourselves stuck in a cave. It'll be hours until a rescue party retrieves you and the only things you got are food, sleeping bags, and each other. With each hour that passes, Albedo becomes more curious of you. As for yourself, you start to uncover more about the mysterious Albedo, breaking away his stoic walls. Perhaps being stuck in a cave isn't that bad after all

Secret Billionaire, Albedo dislikes being treated as high and mighty, becoming pestered with the never-ending questions of his findings as an Alchemist. He goes out in secret and meets you by chance. You treat him like any other normal person, oblivious to his high status. Albedo felt like himself around you, so he kept you close without revealing his true identity. What will happen once you figure out he was the Billionaire Alchemist who changed the world with his research?

- Diluc

Friends to lovers, you've known each other since you were children. Both of you went through hell and back, dealing with the mishaps life threw at you. You could always rely on the other and have seen each other at your lowest points. After the death of his father, Diluc felt as if you're the only one who understood him. He was your closest friend and you to him. It was an unbreakable bond- But what will happen after one of you catches feelings?

Coffee Shop au, set in a modern au. Diluc Ragnvindr was known as being one of the greatest baristas in the city of Mondstadt. Many people enter his shop every day to get a taste of his signature coffee. One day, you entered the coffee shop for the very first time. He could feel his heart suddenly flutter as you ordered- everything about you captivated him. You became a regular and the more times you visit the more Diluc starts to harbor feelings. You're his number one favorite customer, hoping for the day he could finally talk to you without being behind the counter.

- Kaeya

Drunk Confession, you both head to the tavern after a successful mission. Drink after drink your brains started to grow foggy and your ability to think was hindered. Kaeya finished up the last of his drink, his attention turning back to you. With no hesitation, words rambled from his mouth, words that caused your heart to skip a beat. He had just confessed his true feelings for you and your emotions are buzzing around along with the alcohol. The question still stands; what will happen when you're both sober?

Fake Relationship, it was a game, nothing more than two friends pretending to be each other's partners. Kaeya acted as your boyfriend, and you played along with your part, no true feeling being harbored. But as more time passes playing the false narrative, it starts to toy with your real emotions. What's this warm feeling in your chest? It's just a game. Right….?

- Zhongli

Secret Billionaire, in an au where Archons don't need to beg the traveler for money. Zhongli was known as a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor with a keen understanding of history. To the public eye, he seemed normal. One day you commissioned him to aid you in a mission requiring his historical knowledge. You both clicked immediately. You became infatuated by his tellings of history, while Zhongli felt at peace whenever he was with you. You became good friends, even sparking a relationship. But what happens when you learn that the consultant from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was actually the Billionaire archo, Morax?

Forbidden Love, Zhongli knew the consequences that would follow if he allowed his heart to be taken by a mortal human. The heartache and loss that will ensued if he weren't careful. The archon always had his heart closed away from mortals, never allowing himself to grow too attached. That was until he met you, and he let his guard slip. Before he knew, he had fallen for you. Despite how much his heart yearned to be with you, he knew it would only result in heartache. If only he wasn't cursed

- Xiao

Mutual Pining, you and Xiao are crushing on each other. Though you both full heartily believed the other wasn't interested. Due to Xiao's rough and cold exterior, it was easily thought he had no interest in anyone. Whilst for him, he believed that no one would ever love the monster he claims to be. It's a confusing and frustrating experience as you both battle with your emotions. Will someone ever confess or forever live in ignorance as your hearts continue to beat for each other?

Soulmates, you were destined to be together. But Xiao didn't want it, he would much rather be alone. Meanwhile, you had just found out that out of the billions you could have matched with, you were fated with someone who didn't even want your love. But who is one to play with fate? After many frustrations, long and painful buildups of trust, you soon learn that out of the billions, you two are the only ones who make each other whole.

- Venti

Love at First Sight, it must have been fate. You never believed in love at first sight, it easily made you laugh. And yet there you stood as you locked eyes with his green-blue ones for the first time, your heart skipping a beat. As for Venti, he felt as if his world froze the moment his eyes landed on yours. The only sound he could hear was the drumming rhythm of his heart. In an instant, you both knew you were in love.

Forbidden Love, another curse of being an archon. Venti has already experienced the pain of loss firsthand, he wishes to never bear it again. Even when first meeting you, he was cautious, careful to not allow his heart to be broken again. But you were different, and Venti wanted to be with you. He tried his hardest to push aside those feelings, but every time he sees your smile he's falling for you all over again. Perhaps in another life, he'll be able to experience love.

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banditnoo · 3 years

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My Castle of Ships {1/2} - Merlin One Shot

Summary | {A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

Tags | {Merthur, Magic Arthur AU, mind reader AU, Major Character Death}

Warnings | {Like one swear word? Angsty, but not as gut wrenching as 5x13}

a/n | {I’ve finally worked up the courage to post some of my writing on Tumblr! This has been cross posted to AO3 (Legendary_Julia) and Wattpad (GreaserGal19). Maybe one day I’ll get my usernames in order, but today is not that day. Part 2 will come out... at some point. This was suppose to be a stand alone story, but our boys deserve better. Thanks for checking me out, happy reading!}

~~~

{A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

~~~

Merlin was a daydreamer, he always had been. He'd often find himself thinking of Ealdor while he puttered about Arthur's chambers. Sometimes he would imagine what it would be like to rule his own kingdom, to make his own rules. While he scrubbed away at Arthur's hunting boots, he built his own castle. The citadel would be magnificent. The walls would stand tall, glittering with a hint of magic. Beautiful tapestries would hang from every wall, depicting anything the passerby's wished. A series of tunnels would wind throughout and underneath the stone walls, eventually connecting to water. Yes, the castle would have to be by the ocean. Merlin smiled to himself as he pictured it. The birds, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores, and the ships. Merlin loved the idea of having ships. With a boat like that he could sail anywhere, do anything. That's what it could be, his castle of ships.

Arthur had to smile at the name. He too pictured the castle from his spot at his desk. He could only imagine the beauty of a kingdom Merlin could build with his magic. The Castle of Ships.

"Has a nice ring to it," Arthur muttered to himself, to caught up in the image to realize he had said anything aloud.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"You said something."

"No, I did not."

"Yes, yo-"

"You're hearing things Merlin, go back to whatever it is you where doing. Maybe scrub a different spot before you muck up my good boots."

Arthur stood up abruptly, leaving a confused Merlin watch him briskly walk out of his chambers.

"He really has gone mad." Merlin muttered as he began to clean the other boot.

~~~

Merlin knew someone was listening. He's felt the presence in the castle for a long time, but could never quite pinpoint it. He had tried to call out many times. Perhaps there was a Druid somewhere within Camelot trying to communicate, or an evil doer with a presence too strong to ignore. But there was never an answer. He was always left alone with his thoughts, which he was slowing getting scared to think.

When the presence felt strong, Merlin would busy his mind with his daydreams. He would think of home, or add details to his imaginary kingdom.

He did his best daydreaming during round table meetings. The presence would always be strong in the throne room, the magic almost danced through the air. It was here that he added the finer details of his castle.

He constructed a grand portrait hall as Leon droned on about the months finances. The long room would have the most brilliant red carpet, lined with an intricate gold and black pattern. He could almost feel himself walking through the grand hallway as he leaned against the cold stone of the throne room walls. As he imagined himself walking along, he thought about whos portraits he would put on display. He would have his mother, of course, and Gwen, his first friend in Camelot. He could picture the cocky smirk on Gwaine's portrait and the valiant yet understanding look on Lancelot's. His eyes scanned around the round table, imagining all of his friends in their best Camelot red, striking wild poses for the artist. They eventually landed on Arthur, whose head was resting lazily against his hand, trying his best to listen to Leon. Merlin hummed to himself, placing Arthur's portrait at the end of the hallway. It would be the only place fit for his king.

He had heard once of a spell that made the portraits move within their frames, adopting the personality of its subject. He studied Arthur's face as he thought, committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell across his forehead in soft wisps, and how his nose came to a gentle point, complimenting the rest of his face. His favourite feature of Arthur's has always been his eyes. A piercing blue that found him in any room they were in.

They were the same blue eyes that were staring at him now, Merlin realized, staring back, not daring to look away now. Their shared a million words with just a look, a conversation no one else would hear.

Are you as bored as I am?

When is dinner?

When will Leon stop talking?

How's the castle of ships coming?

Merlin's heart dropped. He was imagining things, right? He had to be. They weren't really talking to each other, after all. It was all in his head, somewhere Arthur most definitely was not. He was quickly becoming aware of the overwhelming sense of magic flowing through the room.

I know you're in my head. Make yourself known. I don't know what you want, but you won't be getting it.

Arthur was taken aback by the threatening tone in Merlin's voice. He hadn't realized that Merlin could sense the presence of his magic, or that he was so threatened by it. His eyes dropped quickly, looking at everything but Merlin in the corner of the room.

"Is everything alright, Sire? You looked concerned." Leon's address took Arthur by surprise. Sitting up as fast and as straight as possible, he voided his face of any emotion as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. We must ensure that patrol around the citadel continues. I've caught wind of a potential threat. A sorcerer."

"Are you sure, sire? I haven't heard of such a thing."

"Certain. I trust my sources," with a final glance at Merlin, he nodded at Leon, urging him to continue with the meeting.

~~~

Arthur's eyes followed Merlin around his chambers. He could hear his thoughts going a mile a minute as he absentmindedly straightened the pillows on the bed.

"There is something on your mind," Arthur said, not moving his head from where it rested in the crook of his elbow, all but laying on the table.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes." Their eyes connected from across the room, but Merlin looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again,

"Something is troubling you, and I want you to tell me. Please, Merlin, there is no need to lie."

Merlin was fighting with himself, and Arthur didn't need to be a mind reader to see it. They stayed like this, Arthur looking at Merlin and Merlin looking at the floor. They both felt the heavy magic in the room, but neither acknowledged it.

"Have you ever missed a place you've never been? A place that never really was?"

"I never took you for a philosopher, Merlin," Arthur couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, or the fondness in his eyes, "if this is about your mother, I've told you. She is more than welcome here. I know how much you think of her."

"No, it's- that's not quite it."

'Not thinking of running away, are we?" Arthur's smile grew bigger as he spoke. He knew that's what it was, Merlin had been thinking about it for weeks. He wasn't worried, though. He knew Merlin would never leave without a goodbye, and a chance to convince him to stay. The guilty look in Merlin's eyes confirmed what Arthur already knew.

"I would never! Who would deal with your royal ass everyday if I left?"

"It's a simple fix, really. I would just have to come with you. Make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Arthur Pendragon on the road? I don't believe it for a minute." Merlin smiled as he spoke. He imagined the two of them running away, into the castle of ships.

Many sleepless nights had allowed Merlin countless hours to add onto the castle. In the late hours of the night, he added gardens and ballrooms, imagined the wind on his face as he held tightly to the mast of a massive wooden ship. Those same nights, Arthur would lay awake in his own chambers, halfway across the castle, and imagine the beauty for himself as he listened to Merlin describe his castle grounds in a way that a child listens to his mother read a bedtime story.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you," Arthur rose form his spot at the table, making his way over to the bed and trying his best not to sound too amused, " and put some wood on the fire, would you? We've got an early morning tomorrow. We're travelling to Annis' land. She wishes to discuss the safety of both our borders villages."

"Is there a reason I was not told of this sooner?"

"It's simply business, Merlin. There's no need to worry. Get some sleep, you'll need it for the journey."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Merlin muttered as he left, shutting the door tightly.

"I heard that!"

"Go to sleep!"

~~~

The knights laughed loudly as their horses carried them down the well-beaten trail. An agreement was reached between Arthur and Annis about the protection of the border villages, making it much safer for villagers in each kingdom to travel through the border forests.

"Smile, Merlin! We're celebrating!" Gwaine gave Merlin's should a rough pat as his horse rode up alongside Merlin's. He held out a water skin, no doubt filled with ale, and gestured it towards Merlin.

"You're always celebrating, Gwaine." He took a long sip before handing back to Gwaine, nodding his thanks. He would need a drink if he was going to deal with the knights for the ride back to Camelot.

Merlin turned to his daydreams as their journey back continued. He was picturing a beautiful courtyard, lush with apple trees and all kinds of flowers, when his magic started to tingle. He hardly noticed it at first, brushing it off as the change in the wind, but the feeling kept growing stronger.

Someone was watching them.

They were just leaving Caerleon's borders through a valley, the perfect place for an ambush. Merlin looked around, uneasy. His body tensed at every little sound as the forest came into view. He was fighting with himself. If he told Arthur, would he believe him? What if it really was nothing? No, his magic wouldn't deceive him like that. He looked at Arthur, who was riding a short distance in front of him.

Merlin didn't even have to call his name for Arthur to turn around. As soon as their eyes met, a look of concern filled his face. His hand came up, signaling the group to stop. He looked toward the tree line, signaling for his men to do the same. Much to Arthur's horror, it was deathly quiet. The birds stopped chirping and the wind seemed to stop howling. The air around them was still as the group looked around.

"Did you hear something, sire?"

"No. That's exactly the issue."

"If we are quick, we can make it to the trees. Find safety in the forest."

Despite Leon's suggestion, nobody moved a muscle.

They continued looking towards the trees, before Merlin gave Arthur a hard nudge. Getting ready to tell him off, Arthur turned quickly on his horse before following his line of sight. Standing atop the rocky hills on either side of the valley were dozens of men wearing loose black and brown clothing, swords and bows drawn, pointed at the much smaller group of knights.

"AMBUSH!"

The horses started going crazy, whinnying and thrashing in an attempt to throw off the knights. Swords were drawn as the bandits began to yell, running down the hills at all angles. They were outnumbered, far too outnumbered to stand a chance against even the weakest opponents. Arthur unsheathed his sword, trying to regain control of his horse.

"Head for the trees!"

Picking off only the first attackers, it was a race between time, the bandits, and making it to the cover of the woods. Taking a sword from one of the bandits bodies, Merlin was quick to follow Arthur. With his heart pounding in his ears, he could no longer hear the commotion of the fight. He could only hope he was losing them.

~~~

Merlin's head was spinning as he stumbled through the thick underbrush of the forest. He had lost his horse when he lost sight of Arthur. He dragged his stolen sword loosely behind him as he tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. The bandits had been quicker than he thought, and had much better aim than what he'd like to give them credit for. He had barely cleared the trees when the arrow struck his shoulder, no doubt coated in a poison that his mind was too foggy to identify.

Things had gone downhill very quickly after that. The sun had set what Merlin could only guess was hours ago. The forest was so dark he could hardly tell which way was up. He was ready to give up finding the others. He had wandered for hours, they could've been halfway back to Camelot by now.

Merlin had stopped for a moment, leaving heavily against a tree to try to catch his breath, weighing his options as he grimaced at the pain shooting through his arm. He stayed there for a few minutes, waiting, listening to the forest. He heard the magic in the forest as it flowed through every tree, every leaf. There were owls in the distance, and the sound of insects flying by. And footsteps? Although the sword was in his good hand, Merlin was weak as he swung blindly behind him. Hearing the dull thud of metal on metal, and a familiar grunt, Merlin dared to turn around.

"It's a good thing you've got sticks for arms," Arthur huffed out a weak laugh as he took the sword from Merlin.

When Arthur pulled him into a hug, Merlin was ready to defend himself, but he was to tired too do anything but lean into the cool metal of Arthur's chainmail. A gentle 'hmff' was all he could manage.

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and held him at arms length, giving him a once over. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could see the blood that coated Merlin left shoulder and arm, and now his own hand.

"I would never leave you behind! How could you think that?" Arthur sounded heartbroken as he gripped onto Merlin's good arm tightly.

"I didn't- how-"

"You didn't need to say it out loud for me to hear you."

Confusion was evident in Merlin's eyes as he scanned Arthur's face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he found nothing.

"It's you, isn't it? That presence, that magic... It's you?"

"It always has been."

The magic danced between them, like it had a thousand times before, but there was no fear behind it, not this time.

"You're hurt."

"I noticed."

Merlin leaned into Arthur's arm, trying to stay steady.

"Can you walk? Let me take you to the others. We've set up a camp, we'll be safer there."

"Only if you carry me. Like a damsel in distress."

"Absolutely not," Arthur scoffed as he picked Merlin up bridal style, slinging his good arm around the back of his neck, making sure not to move him too much.

"Hey! I was kidding, you prat! Put me down!"

"Would you rather I drag you? Quit your complaining. If your swing at me was any indication of your strength, you wouldn't have made it another step." Arthur tried to hide the growing concern in his voice. He looked down at Merlin's face, which was now rested against his shoulder, and he could tell it wasn't good. He only now got a good look at what had happened, and his heart sunk. He had had knights that couldn't recover from a wound like that, where the arrow was haphazardly ripped out in an attempt to get rid of the poison it was laced with.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the castle. The castle of ships. I'm sure there's parts that I've missed. I can't be in your head all the time."

Merlin smiled, closing his eyes as he shook his head against Arthur's shoulder,

"It's a stupid idea."

"It can't be that stupid, you put a lot of thought into it. Have you ever thought of becoming a storyteller?"

The laugh that came out of Merlin was short and hoarse, but Arthur needed him to keep talking. They were still a long walk away from the camp, and Arthur was willing to do anything to get Merlin there alive.

"I didn't realize I had such a way with words."

"Please?"

"What would you like to hear about, my lord."

"I won't hesitate to drop you."

Merlin let out another laugh, much rougher than the last one, that quickly turned into a fit of heavy, wet coughing. Arthur continued to walk, the only sound being his boots hitting the ground for a long time before Merlin began to speak.

"The grand hall, it would stand alone from the rest of the castle. It would have a long, stone pathway for guests to walk along as they gathered for feasts and balls. It would be lined with rose bushed and allium flowers, the dark purple ones."

There was another coughing fit before he continued, "the double doors, they would be engraved. With dragons, fairies, things of magic. Did you know your shoulder isn't very comfortable?"

"I wouldn't imagine, with it being covered in armor and all. Tell me about the boats. They are my favourite part."

"What about them? I've never seen a ship, only the pictures in Gaius' books. They're fascinating, aren't they?"

He could hardly finish his sentence before he started coughing again. It shook through his whole body, making him ache.

"Come on, Merlin. Keep talking. Give me something, a thought, anything. It's not long until we'll be back with the knights. Elyan will fix you right up. Good as new, right?"

Merlin gave a weak smile, "good 's new..."

"Why do you find ships so interesting? They are just big, fancy boats."

Arthur could hear Merlin's thoughts, still going a mile a minute despite him thinking almost nothing at all.

" 's exactly it. They're big, they're fancy."

"Is there a spell for that? Could you create one?"

"A spell for what?"

"Building things. Constructing this castle, making ships."

"I'm sure I could figure it out."

Merlin shifted in Arthurs arms, trying to make himself more comfortable before hissing out in pain and trying to reach for his shoulder.

"Are you trying to bleed out? Quit moving!"

Arthur's words came out harsher that he intended, though there was sadness in his voice. Merlin continued to wiggle until Arthur dropped his legs. Keeping one hand around Merlin's waist, he used his other hand to keep a firm pressure on his shoulder. Against Merlin's protest and Arthur's better judgment, they continued walking through the dark.

"We're not going to make it in time." Merlin was leaning heavily into Arthur's side, barely keeping his footing at he stumbled over another tree root.

"We're going to make it. You're not going dying on me now Merlin. That's an order."

"When have I ever listened to those?"

Merlin stopped walking, forcing Arthur to stop next to him. Letting himself fall to his knees, he landed with a small 'thump' on the cold ground, the blanket of pine needles and leaves welcomed him. Arthur lowered himself after him, keeping one hand at Merlin's side, his other hand reached out to rest against Merlin's cheek, keeping his head steady as he closed his eyes.

"Keep your eyes open Merlin. Come on, looks at me. Say something."

"Remember my story, won't you? You've heard me tell it a thousand times. Built that castle of ships. For me?"

"I won't build it unless your there to see it. Open your eyes, Merlin, please." Arthur felt hot tears roll down his face as he looked at Merlin. His friend, his best friend, his only friend, was going to die.

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, only getting them halfway opened before they became to heavy to move. Arthur moved the hand on Merlin's waist to his back, gently pulling him into another hug. They sat like this, in silence for a long time, Arthur not daring to pull away.

Arthur started to hum a gentle tune in a last ditch effort to break the silence, not trusting his own voice to not break if he spoke. It was a tune he had caught Merlin humming hundreds of times. It reminded him of the warmth of the castle, how comfortable he was when he watched Merlin go about his duties from his spot at his desk, listening to the story of a magnificent castle being built and the mighty ships that gave it it's name. It reminded him of all the times he had to stop himself from revealing his piece of magic to Merlin, to tell him that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't hated.

The quiet song came to an end and Arthur stopped, listening to the sounds of the forest and hoping to hear a voice amongst the gentle rustle of trees, but he heard nothing. There wasn't a cough, nor a cry or a snarky remark, not even a thought. It was quiet, deafeningly so as Arthur began to cry. Long, ugly sobs were the only sound as he pulled Merlin closer to him, begging, pleading for him to move, get up, say something, kick him, yell at him, anything.

But alas, there was nothing. Only silence as Arthur continued to cry. He cried for the loss of his friend, his dearest friend. He cried for the loss of the kingdom they never got to create with each other.

He cried, sobbed, begged, and bargained. But that too, only ended in silence.

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lailoken · 3 years

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‘Maids of the Meres’

“The name Mermaid derives from Old English mere, a pool or lake, and it formed the first part of mere-wif, 'mere-wife', the term still preserved in the East Anglian dialect. This is the term applied to Grendel’s Dam, or mother, a cannibalistic ogress who lived beneath a lake, described in the Anglo-Saxon classic Beowulf, which many scholars now think was originally written in East Anglia. Like the ogress, the merewives haunted the inland pools, pits and rivers of the inland areas, rather than the seashores, and were thought to pull in anyone who was foolish enough to lean too far over the water. The River Gipping in Suffolk was notorious for containing them, and James Bird (a local man born in Earl Stonham in 1788), wrote in a poem from 1837 about his boyhood in the area and his mother calling out to him;

‘Make haste and do your errand. Go not nigh

The River's brink, for there the mermaids lie.

Be home at five!’

The merewives however, mainly lived in pools and pits which, like the lake in Beowulf, were described as bottomless. There were the Meremaid Pits in Fornham All Saints and the well in the village of Rendlesham in the same county, and those in the surrounding districts, which were all reputed to contain meremaids. A correspondent to Robert Chambers Book of Days' (1863- 4), writing from Suffolk, informed him that meremaids abounded in the ponds and ditches of his locality; ‘I once asked a child what mermaids were, and he was ready with his answer at once, “Them nasty things what crome (hook) you into the water!”’

It is an old belief that marshland and fenland children were often born with webbed or partially webbed feet (and this is not uncommon in East Anglia in general, even today). Such children, and they were usually girls — so the old belief went – were usually beautiful and were said to be half meremaid and half ferisher; unless their bare feet were seen, they were impossible to tell from normal mortals. They loved to play near meres and dykes, but had a strong homicidal tendency and often tried to push their more normal companions into the pools and drown them. The Cambridgeshire poet J. R. Withers describes much local lore in his verses concerning the countryside around the village of Fordham; in his 1864 poem ‘The Pond in the Meadow', he writes;

‘And strange were the tales of the pond in the meadow,

And eager we listened with eyes opened wide,

To those tales often told by poor Mary the widow,

Who lived in a cottage the meadow beside.

Play not, my dear boys, near the pond in the meadow,

The mermaid is waiting to pull you beneath;

Climb not for a bird's nest, the bough it may sliver,

And the mermaid will drag you to darkness and death.’

Although sharing their name with the mermaid of classical and heraldic traditions, the merewife is a product of genuine, native tradition, rather than of learned lore. The bugbear that these creatures have become belies the traditional worth and use to which they were put by magical practitioners. As in many cases of native lore, they have been 'demonised' to hide their true value and worth, actually probably by the practitioners themselves, rather than the Church or Authorities. East Anglian magical lore asserts that, like many other openings into the earth, be they on solid ground or not, manmade or natural, they are entrances to the chthonic Other realms and may be entered and journeyed within by those of sufficient skill, knowledge and courage. Like all sorties of this kind, they are not without their dangers and the warnings given of the denizens of the deep may well reflect these actual perils, as well as to scare off dabblers and the merely curious. The merewives, being natives of this Other/ Underworld realm, were the guardians of the thresholds to these realms and the knowledge and powers that could be found and developed there. Contact with the merewives could bring about profound changes in the consciousness of the local magical practitioner, if they knew the right techniques, but could bring madness and death to those unprepared and unlearned. It was often to protect the unwary that the tales of danger were started, and to leave the land clear for the local witches to continue to develop their practices undisturbed. The merewife was emblematic of the rich depths of wisdom, magic and knowledge, stored in the Underworld and accessible to the magic-worker. They were and still are, a glyph for the information buried deep in the psyche of all individuals, which may come welling up under the right conditions.

As an adjunct to the tales of the meremaids, it is worth noting a more personal and individual tale of a water-dwelling creature, recorded by the previously mentioned Ralph of Coggeshall, around the turn of the 13th. Century. According to this chronicler, in the reign of King Henry II, some fishermen from the Suffolk coastal town of Orford were hauling in their nets one day when they found they had a most unusual catch. Described by Ralph as a hominem silvestrem ('wodewose' or wild man), the being was shaped exactly like a man and was completely nude but extremely hairy, 'in such abundance that it appeared dishevelled and shaggy; his beard particularly was thick and pine-like, and around his chest it was particularly hairy and shaggy.’ He was, however, almost completely bald. The fishermen took the man to the Castellan of Orford Castle, Bartholomew de Glanville, who took him in and fed him, initially treating him well. The wild man ate whatever food he was given, but much preferred raw meat and fish, which he would squeeze dry with his hands and consume with relish. He slept on a couch that was provided for him and was generally no trouble, except that he would not or could not speak, remaining quite dumb. The people in the castle did not know if he was human and wondered, it is if he could be an evil spirit inhabiting the body of a drowned sailor. Lacking any evidence from the wild man himself, they hung him up by his feet and tortured him to see if they could get him to speak, but this was apparently unsuccessful, so they desisted and tried another tack. They decided to take the man to mass to see if he was a Christian and whether the solemnity and dignity of the occasion would elicit any response from him. This however failed also, the creature apparently having no interest in the ceremony at all, remaining as mute as ever. The Castellan began to become bored after this, deeming there to be no fun in a 'pet' that only ate and slept. Accordingly, he ordered a portion of the river leading to the sea to be netted off and the creature to be placed therein. In this pen the wild man seemed perfectly happy and his captors began to lose their vigilance in guarding him. Eventually he broke out and swam off to sea, but remarkably, he later returned and stayed another two months, becoming very friendly with the local inhabitants. However, he finally swam away never to return, but the tale has persisted in the area ever since, leading to further stories of encounters with beings from the sea. This tale, and those before, go to show the deep importance, for East Anglians at least, of the desirable but dangerous need for contact with the beings of other realms and places; it almost seems like part of the psyche of the inhabitants of the area.”

—

The Devil’s Plantation:

East Anglian Lore, Witchcraft & Folk-Magic

Chapter 1: ‘The Living Landscape’

by Nigel G. Pearson

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halfelven · 3 years

Text

wish i had the artistic talent to draw elrond with a squirrel friend

"Time was when a squirrel could go from tree to tree from what is now the Shire to Dunland west of Isengard. In those lands I journeyed once, and many things wild and strange I knew."

baby!

#txt #elrond #jr2t #lotr #squirrels #don't tell me he wasn't friends with them #i know him better

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walpurga-nacht-academy · 3 years

Photo

“Any practitioner of magic that’s received even a modicum of training in the field has, at one point or another, heard of the term ‘grimoire’. Its origins are shrouded in mystery, its purpose unknown and the power that it possesses inestimable. However, their prevalence is also fading.

As magic studies become more and more accessible to mages of all walks of life, it is considered futile for witches and warlocks to keep personal tomes of spells and hexes anymore. The uniformization of magical practice has brought about an age in which collaboration between our kind is considered not only beneficial, but also ideal. The practice of taking apprentices is no longer an individual choice that each magician makes for themselves, and thus the need for secrecy - the fear of others invading our most personal matters and thus robbing us of our knowledge has become quite absurd.

Nowadays, grimoires have started to gain a reputation as old-fashioned magical tools, relics of the past or tools of forbidden lore. Less than 200 remain still, collected by the Ministry of Magic’s illustrious archivists and kept in many museums across Twisted Wonderland for easy access to those that seek to expand their knowledge. Yet despite their heavy efforts many of these crucial tomes fall prey to the passage of them, deteriorating as their magic fades away. Preventing the loss of these books is quintessential, if not for us, then for future generations. Thus, many countries have launched conservation projects in order to salvage what is left of our inheritance.

It is due to these projects that my own efforts have not been in vain. For years I have searched all over the world to recover and preserve the eight grimoires which had once belonged to the eight great witches of the Bald Mountain, figures shrouded in such mystery that these books are considered the only valid proof of their existence. They are thick volumes, averaging about 1,000 pages each, something quite unusual for that period, and written in codes and foreign languages that have long passed into obscurity. Translating them required intensive work and research, and even so I was able to conquer only sixty percent of the original text. The rest will be lost to history, I am afraid to say, for there are few people able to interpret the original dialects and signs of these spellbooks.

I hope that in the future there might be somebody more courageous and ingenious than me, who will decipher these tomes in their entirety. There is precious knowledge to be learned from these pages, power that has been lost over time, and power that might help the future. It is thus my request that for every person who reads this book detailing the journey I have taken since I decided fourteen years ago that I must resolve this mystery and prevent it from slipping through the cracks of progress, that you think to dedicate a little bit of time and money to the eminent researchers that still struggle to maintain their memories alive.

In this regard, I would like to dedicate this book to the many people and organizations that have made possible the publication of this volume. First, there is of course the Magical Research Board, The Ministry of Magic and the Magic University who have kindly and dutifully supported me financially. The research grant that they have awarded me with has helped me carry my investigation through several countries, as well as access resources that would have been otherwise impossible for me to make use of.

I would also like to express my gratitude towards the ruling families of the Afterglow Savannah and the Valley of Thorns, for their generosity in allowing me to study the history of their kingdoms in order to better understand the social and political dimensions to two of the witches’ that are said to hail from these places.

I would also like to thank all the translators and historians that have taken time out of their busy schedules to help with my manuscripts - pointing out translation errors, mistakes regarding historical dates and events, or even my continuous use of the word “mystery” of which I am guilty even in my opening chapter I must sadly admit! Thus, I would like to mention among many Miss Line, and her lovely daughter Safia, whose generosity saved my life when I was to drown at sea;

my Lord Duban of the Land of Hot Sands, who enchanted me with tales of viziers and street rats who court princesses;

Nefu, whose knowledge of the low town in the Savannah rivals none, I am sure of that;

Lord Himalia of the Land of Pyroxene whose heart is as great as the acres of land he owns;

old, wise Louisa who welcomed me in her hut before her beloved Cockatrice managed to tear me to shreds;

my dear friend Daphne, whose courage is greater than even the rage of a Kerberos breed when it sees its owner attacked;

Thursday, who proved to the world that despite their short stature dwarves should not be taken lightly after all;

and General Vanrouge, whose skill with the sword is as unmatched as the knowledge he possesses. To all of them, I would like to express my sincerest, heartfelt gratitude for the help they have given me. It is truly unmistakable that good friends are more valuable than a thousand golden statues!

Though they are departed, I wish to thank my parents as well, for having instilled in me such good morals and values. I am eternally grateful to all your guidance and love, and hope that you rest safely above in the sky.

Last, but not least, I would like to thank my dearest Alkin, who is first among familiars and friends alike. His companionship and experience has proven to be invaluable to me during my travels, and there are no words to express the warmth with which I regard my beloved brother.”

- Introduction to Of Grimoires and Pledges: A Study of Eight Texts that Shaped Our Understanding of Modern Magic

Grimoire of the Rose

In the sea I used to be a poet.

You do not believe me. That is alright. I understand. My speech is stilted. My pauses are long. My mind, once sharp and swift as the marlin’s gait, now always searches its corners for words that came easily before. I have forgotten them all now. I glance around with wild eyes. The vastness around us scares me.

You think, ‘Ah, this woman is not well.’ And perhaps you are right.

You think, ‘She must have suffered greatly.’ That is not so.

Please do not pity me. I do not deserve it.

As all fools I’ve made peace with myself.

As all wise men I wish to warn others.

Forgive me. Speaking in your tongue is hard for me. But please bear it. I would like to tell you my story. It is not long or sad. Just short and silly. You will surely laugh as you read it. That is alright. I wish you would laugh. It eases my soul when I hear others laugh. It reminds me of the ocean.

But I wish to tell you my story. Please listen.

It starts with a beautiful princess born in a wealthy kingdom.

No, that princess is not me. I was born on the shore, among the sand and shells, under the great night sky. I have never seen a palace, nor worn a gown. I have heard that they are beautiful. Princesses wear them at balls, with golden slippers and dance away the night. This princess must have worn one too. She must have been very beautiful. And loved. All beautiful women are loved.

No, I do not know what made her beautiful. I have never seen her. But I like to imagine it must have been so. It helps me rest.

As I said, my story starts with a princess born in a wealthy kingdom. She was her father’s only child, a sweet, delicate girl with fair hair and golden eyes.

Yes, I am lying now. For I never laid eyes on her. I say these things because it helps me rest.

I am repeating myself? Forgive me. Your tongue is difficult for me. I wish to tell you my story. Will you listen?

My story starts with a beautiful child, born to a widowed king, who paid three gold pieces to the undertaker to build a temple over his wife’s grave, where he went to pray every evening. I do not know why humans built temples. My kind does not.

I have asked him, but he did not know either.

He loved her too. They all did. She was beautiful. All beautiful women are loved. I was loved too. I was beautiful too.

My story starts with the birth of a beautiful child, whose father built a temple ashore the land where my mother had borne me. It was the darkest night she had ever seen, and the stars shone bright. My mother cried as I came out, small and pink and weeping. I was so small I fit in her arms with ease. She was frightened I would die of cold. She bundled me up and ran to the sea.

You think it’s strange. That is alright. Forgive me. I will explain.

My mother ran with me to the sea, for my father was giving chase. She reached the waters before he had a chance to grab her. That is as well. For if he did, he would have pulled my mother’s skin away.

Yes, my father loved my mother. All men love us. They cannot help it. It is their sin.

He found her upon the beach and took her to his hut and made her his wife. She bore him sons, I don’t know how many for I never asked, and then me. My father’s world came crashing down upon him. My mother wept with joy. When I came she knew Mother Sea would welcome her back. She bore me upon the shore so that Mother would bear witness.

When mother’s feet touched the water, she had already been gone. I do not know if my father followed. I think he must have not. Mother Sea does not welcome his kind. You cannot breathe when Mother holds you. That is very pitiful.

Forgive me. Your tongue is difficult.

There are no men among us. It is only us and Mother. She loves us deeply and we love her. And the men that Mother hates also love us. It is a difficult love. No, I do not know if we love the men too. We must love them. We swim every year to the shore to take our skin off and be like them - the human women that they love. And they love us too. Because we are more beautiful than their women.

Forgive me.

They love us, and they desire us. They take our skins and bring us to their sheds and take us in their beds. We bear them sons and mend their clothes and curse the land we live on and love them dearly. We cannot help but love them. No, it is not love. It is love. Your tongue is very difficult.

We love them and we love them. We must, for Mother no longer loves us when we love the men. She does not recognize us anymore. She cannot hold us when she doesn’t know who we are. She is frightened of us then. So we love the men because we cannot love Mother anymore. We miss Mother. But she doesn’t miss us.

It is very pitiful.

When we are human we cannot love Mother, so we wait for daughters to be born so she will love us again. No, only daughters. Never sons. Mother does not love our sons. They cannot see or hear Mother. But daughters - us - we can. I heard Mother before I had been born. She sang to me of the sea foam, and the waves and of my mother’s skin and where my father hid it. I told my mother this. She dug the chest buried underneath the juniper tree with her bare hands as I sang to her. She was crying because she heard Mother’s voice in mine.

I do not know what happened to my father. I have never returned to that shore. I have never met my brothers. I do not wish to. Mother does not either. She told me to be careful. She held me to her breast as we watched the angelfish, and told me to never go to the land of men and take off my skin. She told me to keep away.

But it was a waste. She knew this. We must go to the shore every year. We must take off our skin.

My mother did so the next year as well. I never saw her again. She must have been found by another man. That is as well. I would soon follow in her footsteps.

My story starts with the birth of a fair child, beloved by all, and especially by the young poet who wished to marry her. He was a handsome man, but he was poor. This is unfortunate in your land. Forgive me.

Why did he love the princess? Because she was beautiful. All beautiful women are loved.

Yes, all beautiful things must be loved.

Why?

Because they are beautiful. That is all.

The poet loved this princess because she was beautiful, but she did not love him because he was poor. It is a pitiful thing.

Yes, I loved the poet too. Because he was beautiful. No, I did not love him. I loved him. Your tongue is very difficult.

I wish you could understand.

He did not understand either. Though he was a poet. It was odd. He told me he could not hear me sing when I spoke, and did not hear me speak when I sang. But Mother hears us. She hears me and my sisters as we sing-speak and speak-sing to her. Only Mother can hear us.

But still I loved him.

Yes. No, I did not love him. Please understand.

I sang to him under the night sky and he kissed my lips. I spoke to him about love and he kissed my cheeks. He loved me on the shore until dawn. No, it was love, not love. Forgive me.

When Mother released the sun from her hold, he kissed my eyelids. He had beautiful lips. I loved them dearly. He was a beautiful man. All beautiful things must be loved.

He did not take me for his wife. He loved the princess.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Forgive me,’ he said.

I am repeating myself. Please understand.

‘You are taking my skin,’ I told him. ‘You are taking my skin. What will I do without my skin? Mother won’t take me back without my skin.’

‘Forgive me.’

He spoke so sweetly. Do you understand? All beautiful things must be loved.

‘The princess of this land - I love her dearly. I wish to marry her. But I am poor. I am not worthy. I wish to be worthy. The princess - she wishes for a coat more beautiful than the sunrise. I have searched this land - from the mountain to the sea, from the fields to the hills, but I have not found a coat more beautiful than yours.’

‘I cannot give you my skin,’ I told him. ‘You must take me as your wife. I cannot give you my skin for another. I must have my skin to return to Mother.’

‘Forgive me,’ he said. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids - and then he was gone. He took my skin to the princess. She loved it dearly. She loved him dearly. They were to be married within the year. She wore my skin as her veil. It was a beautiful veil. It was a beautiful wedding.

All beautiful things must be loved.

I gave chase. Yes, I did. I followed after him - my husband.

I called to him. But he did not stop.

I wept for him. But his heart did not yield.

I wept for Mother. But she could not hear me.

I wept for our Master. He said I was a fool to trust the word of man. He thundered. He roared. He drove me away with arrows made of fire and spiteful words. He did not care. He did not listen.

Please listen.

I wish to tell you my story.

There was once a child born upon the land where a temple was built with just three gold coins. This child was so beautiful that when she spoke, the birds would listen to hear her song. When she danced, the ground would soften underneath her feet so no harm would come upon her. When she smiled, the sun bowed so it would not deter from her beauty.

He loved her. She scorned him. He was poor. It is a pitiful thing.

I loved him. He loved her. I loved him and loved him.

Your tongue - forgive me.

She came to me upon the shore.

All beautiful things must be loved.

My husband - he left me upon the shore. He took my skin and left. He loved the princess. I loved him.

I wanted to return to Mother. But Mother did not love me anymore. She did not hold me. She could not hold me. I wept. Mother’s arms - they seemed to wrap around my throat. I could not breathe.

She came to me upon the shore. My Lady.

My sisters - they tore away their skin. A leg, an arm, a breast, an ear - they had sewn it all together. They gave the coat to me. They said Mother would hold me now.

She did not. She could not.

I loved Mother. I loved and loved and loved and loved and loved and loved and loved Her.

She could not love me. He did not love me. She did not love him.

They were to be married within the year.

It was a beautiful wedding.

It was a beautiful veil.

‘My skin,’ I said. ‘My skin, my skin, my skin - You must take me as your wife.’

‘I do not love you.’

‘You must. Mother does not love me anymore. You must.’

His roots went deep. They touched her mother’s grave. They touched my mother’s grave.

He loved her. She loved him. No, not love. Love.

Please understand.

All men love us. It is their sin. We must love them too, when Mother no longer loves us.

Please understand.

‘My child, my rose,’ she spoke. Her eyes were so sweet. I wept. She kissed my eyelids. She kissed my tears. All beautiful things must be loved.

I loved him. I let him bloom. I gave him light. I gave him water. I fetched it every day from the well and watched him grow. My husband.

It was a beautiful wedding.

‘My child, my rose, my sweetest heart.’

She held me. Mother could not hold me. She held me and kissed me and loved me.

Your tongue is very difficult.

‘I do not love you,’ my husband lied. ‘I cannot love you. I do not want to love you. Please understand.’

All men love us. It is their sin.

It was a beautiful veil.

Forgive me.

I am repeating myself.

Forgive me.

They take us from the shore into their huts and into their beds. We bear them children and mend their clothes and curse the land we live on and love them dearly. And wait for daughters to be born.

Every year he gave me blossoms. I crushed them underneath my feet. He fed on my blood.

I loved him. And I loved her. And I loved Mother. And I loved her.

‘My child,’ she kissed me. ‘My rose,’ she kissed me. ‘My sweetest heart,’ she kissed me.

I sheath myself in wicked thorns and sing of my Lady’s love.

Please listen. Please understand.

My mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave.

He took her into his hut and into his bed. He took her into the garden and stripped her of her skin. He hid it underneath the juniper tree where mother heard me sing.

All men must love us. It is their sin.

She was a beautiful child. He was a dutiful king. He paid three gold pieces for the temple. It was made of stone and wood and the bed inside it was warm.

They take us from the shore and into their beds.

I loved him. He died in spring. I burned him. I kissed the ashes.

Mother would not listen.

Mother could not understand.

It was a beautiful veil.

Forgive me.

Your tongue is very difficult.

I wish to tell you my story.

Please listen.

Notes

“Translating this introductory part of the grimoire has proven to be by far the easiest part of my endeavour, as there has not been much to translate at all. It seems that unlike her sisters, the Witch of the Rose wrote in the common tongue of that time, which fortunately for me is not very different from our current one. Line tells me this might be because the language of the selkie has no written form. In fact, its complexity is so great, no written form could properly capture its beauty.

It is an interesting notion to me, a student with meagre interest in languages, at the very least before I become employed in this project. There is no proper way to prove this, however, as according to what Line tells me, she can barely remember even the few things she picked up from her grandmother. It is so with every selkie that lives on land for too long - slowly they forget the tongue of Mother Sea (an ancient pagan deity, I believe) and learn the tongue of their husbands. Line herself seems to remember mostly old songs that she teaches to little Safia too so she can remember her ancestors even a little. She tells me they are the last ones.

Line’s great-great-grandmother was taken from the sea by her husband as well - a practice which was considered normal back in the day - and as she never managed to have any daughters was forced to live the rest of her life on this foreign land. She tells me this story with a sort of melancholic detachment as she brushes her daughter’s long, golden hair. This is standard for their species it seems - all daughters have golden hair and golden eyes which makes them look terrible and inviting to the men that come across them.

Line also tells me that the selkie language has over 34 words to express ‘love’. She says that the witch must have been trying to capture them all as she wrote down her confession, but she can only remember a few of the ones her grandmother taught her. Thus, there is ‘love gleaned from above the sea foam’, ‘love that is realized by the stroke of midnight’, ‘love which blooms only at the wake of dawn’, ‘love which burns one as they feel it’ which is different from ‘love that scorches one as they let go of it’. She does not know the word for the love felt for one’s husband, but she tells me that the love for one’s daughter is translated as ‘love for a budding flower which blooms on the bottom of the ocean’.

She tells me all this with a mournful look - the expression of a woman who knows that when she passes there will be a little less of her legacy left. The grimoire that I show her has a shell accessory on the cover that when opened produces the most beautiful melody in the world. When I showed Line this she started weeping and once she calmed down she explained that it was the same song that her grandmother used to sing when she was little. I believe it must be an old folk song, though she cannot confirm it for me, since she admits that there are barely any words that she recognizes. Though she can tell with some certainty that it is a song of forgiveness - that the witch is begging her mother to welcome her back to the sea. Little Safia listened to the song as well, but I could tell that beyond the soothing melody nothing stuck out to her at all. It broke Line’s heart.

I stayed there for almost two months learning what I could about the selkie. It did Line good too since she felt that even if she were to die, little Safia and her children would not be robbed of her heritage. I was touched by this sentiment - so much that I swore that once I have finished my business collecting and translating the grimoires I would make sure to amass in one volume the entirety of Line’s teachings during the time they graciously let me stay there.”

- Of Grimoires and Pledges: A Study of Eight Texts that Shaped Our Understanding of Modern Magic

“It has now been more than ten years since I have made that promise, which I have managed to keep after all. If you were to look in any library right now, dear reader, you might spy tucked away in one of the shelves a little book of no more than 100 pages, more than half filled with illustrations and drawings, while the other half is full of songs and poems and little phrases that Line shared with me as we sat huddled around the fire at night. I’ve been told it is a commercial failure - that nobody but the most dedicated anthropologists give it more than a glance. But it does not matter to me. It took four years for the 100 copies to sell. I have recently ordered 100 more.

To others these books might be nothing more than curiosities, oddities, a change of reading material - but it is not so. Not in the slightest. These are the words and experiences of a woman whose ancestry has been erased almost entirely and plunged into obscurity. By no means can I simply let her life or history be disregarded in such a manner. Especially now since I am the only one left fighting.

It was two years after I departed from Line’s house that I received a letter from the young lord who oversaw the village she lived in. I was in the midst of a lesson with Old Woman Louisa when I was informed that due to a tragic accident little Safia lost her life at sea, followed three months later by her mother who died of grief. I was left numb by the news - barely registering it at all and inconsolable for weeks after. I had to leave Louisa’s abode as my mourning made the beasts under her care uneasy, and with no goal in mind simply proceeded forward to the Isle of Lamentation. A fitting spot to vent my grief.

I have had the good mind to send the young lord a letter asking him to keep the hut in which they lived in good condition, and returned there two years after my travels ended. It is now a museum, my dear reader, dedicated to Line, Safia and all the women who suffered at the hands of their destiny by being taken from their home to live on these strange lands. The last that will even suffer this destiny, for Line and Safia’s deaths did not mark merely the loss of two great souls and hearts from the world, but also the loss of an entire species. There are no more selkie that roam the ocean, and if there are any on land they must have long forgotten they even were.

To them I wish to dedicate this small volume that I have compiled, relying on the memory of the most wonderful woman I have ever met in my life, and the innocence of the sweetest little girl that I have had the good fortune of knowing.

May their souls rest among the stars, free of pain and suffering, curled in Mother Sea’s bosom.”

- Songs of Mother Sea: A Short Guide to the History of Selkie Culture Through Poems and Music

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #astra selene #witch of the rose #selkie #twist #twisute #twist oc #twisute oc #fanmade lore #twisted wonderland fanschool #walpurga nacht academy #the little mermaid #postmodern fairytale #fractured fairytale

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shimmeringclouds · 3 years

Text

Karamatsu - Lycoris Radiata

𝘠𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘪!𝘒𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶 𝘟 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Dim. Yet warm. You figured that's how a forest would be during the summer.

With that thought in mind, however, it didn't help you whatsoever with finding the path you were supposed to be walking along. Of course you would lose track of where you were meant to be walking; wandering minds and feet aren't exactly a good pair.

Glancing upward through the mess of tree branches and leaves, you could just about make out the glimmer of stars above you. Looks like you missed dinner. Again. Was it really so hard for you to go for a relaxing walk in the woodlands?

Sighing, you rubbed your upper thighs. Sore. The blood pumping through them felt weird against the fabric of your trousers, thumping uncomfortably against your fingers. Tingling. Just... weird.

Tree trunks stood by attentively, waiting patiently for your tired figure to curl up against its' bark. And you did just that, groaning as you stretched out your arms and legs. Your arms fell with a thud to your sides, fingers absentmindedly caressing the cool grass beneath you.

...Now what? Were you just going to sit there for the rest of the night? A ridiculous idea, surely. However, it was the only thing you could do. It's not like you knew if anyone was nearby to help you get home and, even then, you didn't think you could just trust anyone you would meet in the middle of the woods at night.

Another sigh. You're good at those, aren't you? You tried to take a look at your surroundings, only to see the dark figures of trees and bushes (at least, you hoped they were bushes). Dark blues and greens, hues of black, absences of colour.

A flash of red. A stark contrast to the deep colours around you. A beautiful flower, you saw. Its' crimson petals clustered together in the centre, with numerous similar coloured stems curling upwards, swaying and dancing with the wind.

"A Spider Lily, huh?" you muttered. You reached out and grazed the tips of your finger against it, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You shouldn't bloom here, all alone like this..."

Your mind briefly wandered back to a conversation you had had with a friend at some point throughout the week. Being the flower enthusiast she was, you always allowed yourself to become subject to her seemingly endless rants about flowers, plants, herbs - anything that she had knowledge about. You remembered what she had said about these richly coloured beauties.

'If you see someone that you may never meet again, these flowers will bloom along the path.'

It sounded like a beautiful but tragic piece of poetry. You began to wonder where the myth had even come from. When was it first spoken? Was it based on true events? Was it really such a bad thing, not meeting someone again?

You knew, from experience, that letting people leave your everyday life was actually beneficial for yourself. Although it took you a number of years to realise it, you found that the kinds of people you attracted were a lot worse than they appeared to be. Deep down, they were monsters. Horrible people, who have the audacity to call themselves human.

Of course it was painful, but only at first. Now, it didn't bother you much anymore. Your soul felt lighter, if anything, indicating that you were getting better, not worse.

Releasing the flower from your ghost of a grasp, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes. That was enough for today. It was time to rest for a while. Breathing in, and out, slowly, ever so slowly, a feeling of slumber crept its way into your body.

Relaxing your tense muscles, you released a long, heavy breath. Sleep.

"It's dangerous to sleep out here, my dove."

"WHA-!!"

An unholy shriek escaped from your throat suddenly, and you pushed your body away from the tree you were leaning against, crawling rapidly across the ground. Whipping your body around, your wide eyes landed on the lantern that outlined the shadowy figure, who stood just behind where you were previously sitting.

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, angel!"

The deep, husky voice that whispered into your ear became slightly higher pitched and frantic. You saw the figure step forward, causing you to flinch.

"Ah, do not worry, princess. I won't harm you..."

"That's what they all say!" you blurted out. A short silence followed before you asked:

"Who.. Who are you?"

The figure stepped forward, raising its' lantern to reveal itself.

It was... a man. Yet he wasn't human. His skin was pale, eyes surrounded by red markings. On top of his brown hair was a pair of glowing blue horns, which seemed to flow like fire. his clothing seemed old fashioned, covering his slightly built figure in dark robes of satin and ribbons. The lantern that he held also emitted the same coloured light as his horns, flickering before you.

"You may call me Karamatsu, my dear," he bowed slightly, a cat-like grin crossing his features. "I am but a humble spirit who spotted a wandering soul, lost and alone in a forest that humans should be cautious with. Perhaps some guidance is in your best interest?"

"I, uhm... You're not.. human?" A deep chuckle sounded, sending a shiver up your spine. It was echoey. As if, even though he was standing right in front of you, he was still so far away.

"I'm afraid not, flower. I am an Aoandon. But do not be afraid, I am not here to hurt you. I would only be a guilty guy if I were to leave such a beautiful woman alone in the woods, where anything could happen."

He reached out a partially gloved hand to your figure, still on the ground.

"Please, allow my light to guide you home."

You were sure that if you could see the words he spoke, they would be surrounded by flowers and sparkles. You never knew a man - or anyone, for that matter - to speak in such an overzealous manner.

However, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It didn't make you feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually. You guessed that's why you reached up and grasped his unnaturally cold hands, allowing him to pull you upwards in a swift motion. He grinned softly down at you, making you realise just how short you were compared to him.

"May I ask for your name, love? Or would you prefer the names I give you?" he winked. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, in fear that he would actually hurt you if you got on the wrong foot. So he was a gentleman and a flirt? What an odd combination.

"[Y/N]..." you decided to not answer his second question. It was probably for the best.

"[Y/N]. A wonderful name! As gorgeous as the stars above! I am certain that they aligned to create a bridge just for us to meet on this special night!" Karamatsu's hands were waving around in wild, extravagant gestures. He looked ridiculous. What a strange character.

"I- .. Sure.."

For most of the journey, you listened to this... spirit, ramble nonsense about the scenery around you, or about your features that he found endearing. There were times where he would deliberately lower his voice into something he thought was sultry and enticing, peering into your eyes with a smouldering stare. You didn't mind the dip in his voice at all, not a single bit. It was just the way that the poor man was clearly trying too hard to make you fall for him.

'He clearly has never been successful with any woman before... How cute!'

You couldn't help yourself. You had just met him, and you already wanted to know more about him. Was that weird? Probably. Maybe it was the touch-starved part of yourself that was talking, longing to be held in someone's arms after being neglected by so many for so long.

"Watch your step here, my dear." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, peering up at him to see this a pale hand was held out to assist you. You gladly took hold of it, fingers grasping his colder ones. Even as he helped you over a few jagged rocks in your path, you weren't willing to let go just yet. Although his skin was cold, his touch felt inviting and comforting.

You didn't want to let go yet.

And it seemed that Karamatsu was overjoyed by this, his eye glistening with a kind of happiness that you had never seen a human hold before.

"A-Are you afraid, sweetheart? There is nothing to fear, not as long as I am here by your side! However, if you wish to hold me tightly, I will never object you!" The slight tremor of nervousness in his words sounded so endearing to you.

"Good, because I wasn't planning to let go just yet."

You had never seen a human wear such a broad and satisfied smile, either. It was contagious, causing you to smile timidly up at him in return.

Eventually, though, your midnight stroll had to come to an end for the both of you. Karamatsu had led you to the beginning of the trail where, just a little further ways down, was a bus stop for you to get home.

"We have arrived, my angel."

"Ah... right," you mumbled, slight disappointment seeping through your tone. Karamatsu chuckled, his cat-like grin widening slightly.

"What is this? Is my fair maiden unwilling to let me go?"

"Something like that..." you mumbled, keeping your face directed towards the ground as you released your hold from his arm. Karamatsu's cheeks bloomed pink, a shade darker under the moonlight.

"A-Ah! Well," luckily, he was able to snap out of his surprised stupor, "Do not be so sullen, my moonbeam!"

'Moonbeam?'

"I'm sure the stars will align once again to reunite us as we journey through our lives together, and one day... One day, maybe..."

His bold tone suddenly simmered down to a gentle murmur, almost lost to the breeze if you weren't standing so close to him. A gentle smile was on his face now, his eyes glazed over in reminiscence of something akin to a far away daydream.

"I hope, one day, our paths cross again, my love."

His cold fingers caressed your own, lifting them up to press a chaste kiss onto your knuckles. It may have been brief, but the cold touch burned itself into your skin, lasting as he slowly, reluctantly, pulled away.

"Have a safe journey home, angel!" He grinned, saluting quickly before turning away, holding his flickering lantern before him to lead his way back into the forest he called his home.

You had no words left in you. They had all been snatched away by his comforting words and soft touches. His kind eyes, his dazzling smile. His glowing aura that led you through the darkness around you.

Ah, but good things never last long for you. You had to leave before you missed the next bus. You had leave this lonely, broken soul behind. Just like how he had no choice but to leave yours.

Turning away, you caught a glimpse of red from the corner of your eyes.

A trail of red spider lilies. Standing tall and blooming where he once stood a moment ago.

'Please... Meet me here again. One day.'

#osomatsu san #karamatsu matsuno #karamatsu x reader #yokai!karamatsu #yokai!matsu #yokai!au #xreader #romance #spider lily #flowers #floriography #japanese mythology

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soyforramen · 3 years

Text

For @riverdalepromptathon week one (I am so excited to be able to catch up):

She’d come to the Whyte Wyrm under an harvest moon, an auspicious sign. It had been weeks, months, years, since she’d last seen him. Despite being the best tracker of the pack, her skills were no match for the camouflaging spells that allowed him to blend into the human world so easily. She’d been lucky enough yesterday to catch the tang of magic in an old diner. The Lonely Highway held many miscreants and malfeasances, but none so dangerous as him.

In spite of herself, she wound the protective charms and grisgris her sister and mother had paid dearly for around herself. There would be no turning back from tonight, not if she played her cards right. Betty Cooper glanced up at the orange moon, the mother of her people and provider of all, one last time. If tonight were to be her last, this was the image she wanted to die with.

Full of the sight, Betty shoved her way through the long line, ignoring the protests of the bouncer at the door. ID’s and waiting lists held no interest to her, and mercy on the one who tried to keep her away.

Inside the door she was assaulted by the fetid, sharp tang of human sweat that sang of their excitement and arousal, anticipation and fear. It was nothing more than any other bar, full of hunters and prey. As much as she disliked the smell, she drew another deep breath, rolling the air in her mouth, trying to catch a hint of him. There, in a shadowed booth well away from the thriving dance floor. Magic, no doubt, and nefarious, forbidden magic at that.

Calmly, with movements practiced over a millenia, Betty unsheathed her dagger. Even in the dim light the enchantments glowed with every flash thrown out by the strobe light. Few humans saw the long blade, fewer still comprehended what they saw. Drunk and stupid, while not limited to human-kind, seemed to be their specialty. Her target came into view and she smiled, a harsh and bitter thing foreign to the one she wore when she was in her homelands. The few humans who had turned before her fled at the sight of it, and the crowds easily parted before her.

“Hello, my child,” her target greeted in the old tongue. He spread his arms wide, and the women – no, not women, succubi – hissed at her approach.

Even here in a foreign land he’d accumulated a harem. It was a talent he and he alone possessed; one that irritated her journey to no end. Creatures, regardless of gender or kind, were willing and able to throw themselves before him just to get a glimpse of his power and, perhaps, earn his blessings as well.

There weren’t many who would dare defy a god.

“Edward,” Betty said with a nod. “If that is what you still call yourself.

In the blink of an eye, the dagger was in the air. He moved quicker than even her eye could see, and the steel drove deeply into his shoulder. While it wasn’t the end she was hoping for, at least the wound would provide a good start for the hunter sent after her death.

Edward’s howl of pain was swept away in the thumping electronic music, the poor hearing of humans unable to pick up on such a high rage. It didn’t keep them from feeling it, however, and Betty could sense the turning tides of emotion. She stepped back, bracing herself for the wave of magic he’d surely send her way, chanting oaths and prayers under her breath. They would do little if anything at all, but she’d found they steadied her mind enough to withstand the searing pain magic brought along with it.

The foundation, however, seemed not as steady. Beneath her feet, along the walls, above her head, every square inch of the Whyte Wyrm seemed to quiver and shake. A scream rose up, followed by a roar of panicked, wild-eyed humans. Edward cared nothing for the body count he left behind as long as he could take one more hunter from the world. Even his servants held little value to him. The ones he’d surrounded himself with tonight, though, seemed to realize this quicker than most and were scrambling through the humans to escape.

Betty held her ground. She knew there was no escaping his wrath, not this time, not with blood fueling this rage. Quickly, she bent and pulled a second and third knife from her boots. These were her own personal blades, those used to defend herself against the mortal, useless against gods. But she knew to be a hunter was to die with weapon in hand. It would be a disgrace if she died any other way.

In a low, harsh tongue, sibalent and lilting, Edward spoke in a language older than even the stars themselves. Every hair on Betty’s body stood at attention and she fought to keep her feet from moving. With a sudden burst, Edward thrust forward and a cracking noise came from above. Betty moved, trying to escape the falling ceiling, but she knew she could never escape on his wrath tonight.

Edward screamed, and Betty rolled to the right, cement tearing open her jacket and clawing at her shoulder. Despite the pain, she pulled herself free of the rebar. She stared at Edward, or rather were Edward had once been. Above his slowly dissolving body stood a man, no older than seven and twenty, holding a thick, darkly-colored vase in his hand. The glow in his eyes flared and disappeared like smoke, absorbed into his body.

“We have to get out of here,” he yelled, pointing away from the entrance.

Betty made no move, too shocked and pained to understand the scene in front of her. The man ran towards her, and in his touch she could feel the spark of magic, the heat of the ancients. He tugged her through the kitchen door and together they climbed through the chaos. Shelves had fallen over, taking along with them pots and pans, knives and raw vegetables. Long, white lights swayed overhead, and Betty had to duck to avoid several of them.

Another rumble sent them to their feet, and they crawled the last few feet into a back alleyway that stank with garbage, old alcohol, and urine.

“What the hell was that guy?” the man panted.

Seeing her bloody shoulder, he gestured toward the parking lot where a crowd had gathered. Bright, blinding lights indicated the human authorities were here. She knew she should have run away then and there, back to her people to report on (her?) success in the tracking and death of the creature known only as ‘Edward’.

Instead, Betty stumbled after the man, clutching at her shoulder. She had witnessed what few in the universe had ever heard of – the death of a god. Now, standing in front of her, was a new being, one that had absorbed the magic and strength of Edward, unaware of what had just taken place. A man shorn in a ripped, tattered hat that smelled in need of a wash, plain, plaid shirt and ripped jeans had just killed a god of the ancients.

By her people’s law, he was to be her next target. He was not to be left alive. No creature with that power could live because magic, by its very nature, corrupted, warped, distorted its host into evil.

Yet, there was another, higher law. One that bound man to man, creature to creature, life to life. By killing Edward, this man had saved her life; now, he held her fate in his hands. Once tasked with hunting down and destroying the ancient god, Betty was now life-bound to protecting this strange, human man. It was a tragedy that could only be conveyed by the great poets of her land. A land, she now realized, she could never return to.

She prayed to the ancestors that this man was a great man. One with a name that would be spoken through all time, one that would bring fear and respect no matter who heard it. Surely an aptly named man could be virtuous enough to allow her to help fight off the evil that threatened to consume him. After all, one’s chosen name meant everything - destiny, fortune, luck. It was partially why she never told anyone her real name when she went to the human world; she didn’t trust any of them to give her name the respect and dignity it deserved.

“What’s your name?” Betty rasped through a throat scraped by raw magic.

“Jughead Jones,” he said over his shoulder before leading her to an EMT.

Fuck.

#riverdalepromptathon #week one #bughead #kind of?

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fieryhonesty · 3 years

Text

The life of You

[AO3]

“This is funny I never planned this become multi chapter. Was meant only as chaptered oneshot (time to make a masterlist, huh) what can I promise you: this series will always have the banner where only name of specific chapters changes”

Words: 2479

Warning(s): rated this as mature on AO3 just cause it might turn whatever direction in future (I say might, not will 😳), already has swearing in and might get more (depends on situation I put characters in, we don’t swear without reason, right?), maybe suggestive innuendos

Perhaps you could have expected journeying with your ever so flirty friend would turn into one wild ride. Especially if the destination was Stormterror’s lair. As Dvalin was freed and the area is now accessible. The place piqued the curiosity of many. When Frostblade approached you if you were fancy to tag along. You were quite surprised as he didn’t seem like somebody who deliberately enjoys adventuring.

However after sharing his reason you quickly understood. Fatui started being active, the ones within city walls were seen in small groups. Debating about the honorary knight, no how people of Mondstadt were able to drive Stormterror away. They were scheming something, that’s for sure.

Maybe it hurt their imaginary pride or perhaps they had their own plans. Whatever it is, Kaeya wanted to be one step ahead. Seeing what was behind the wind barrier for so long was a good start. And who knows. Maybe he will be able to screw over Fatui plans.

Well that’s it if the area was not overly complicated. The ruins you had to explore first in order to get further into the lair were quite complicated. But the problem was you accidentally activated a trap and now each of you were standing at different sides of the bars which nearly skewered you.

Staring with wide eyes at the bars which were just a few inches away from your face. One step more and you would be goner. Gulping loudly. “Too close to my comfort.”

“Oh? And if it were me?” Letting out a sigh and shaking your head in disapproval. “Then I’d reconsider if giving you frostbite would be punishment enough. Anyway I’ll backtrack and try to find another way.”

---

More than you finding another way, the another way has found you. During your exploration you came across a ruin guard. Its eye light up in dangerous demeanor. If one thing could go wrong then it was probably meeting up with this walking hunk of steel. Corridors were too narrow for fighting.

You decided to run away from it, hoping it will either lose sight of you or get stuck somewhere. You had no idea where the hell you were running. But managed to end up in a dead end. However you noticed the wall was in a bad shape, feeling wind blowing between the bricks.

Charging elemental energy in your sword and hurling it forward, creating a hole. Big enough for you to get out. Finally getting out and breathing fresh air, your hair were ruffled by the blowing wind. Such a nice change after all that time spent in ruins where it smelled like- well mold and dust.

The noise of falling debris behind brought you back to reality. The ruin guard was making its way out. Following the intruder no matter what. Such a persistent thing. But at least now you can fight. Air got extremely cold as you summoned several cryo blades and dashed towards the machine. It tried to hit you but it’s too huge and slow to land a hit on you. Rolling to the side or jumping a bit back to avoid any kind of danger. No matter how much it tried, you were faster. Slashing here and there. Your attacks might not do much but there's way too many of them. Even the sturdy material those things are made off will slowly fall apart. Leaving the more vulnerable parts exposed. Nothing can work in such cold temperature as you were attacking it with.

Cutting one of its arms off. As it fell down, dust rose up. How heavy are those things? You better never find out. Sliding between its legs, leaving a thin slippery surface behind you, hoping it will slip and fall down. However the ice crushed under its weight. Well it was a good try?

Noticing how it turned around and kneeled. You had seen this once. Dashing behind a pillar and praying it will withstand the rockets. When you were sure no more explosives were coming your way. Jumping out of the hiding spot and seeing the Captain of Cavalry was having its attention. When did he get there?

You had exploited this situation and aimed one of the cryo blades at its weak spot on back which caused it to flinch. Kaeya didn’t waste any moment and used his own elemental power to hit its front eye, causing it to shut down. The damage caused by the both of you was enough for it to never initiate the auto recovery function. Leaving it in a half destroyed state forever.

Keaya has looked towards you and clapped.

“I knew I can rely on you, partner.”

“Technically it was you who was the game changer. How did you find me anyway? The exit is near by?” Chuckle coming out of the male’s chest. He walked closer to you, lips curled up into his usual smug.

“Princess, I’m not deaf you know. I heard distant noise and thought it might be my cute friend needing help. But I guess you were having fun, sorry for breaking your toy.”

The sarcasm in his voice was more than obvious. Rising your hand up towards him, saying ‘high five’ which made him chuckle once more. He was quite worried when each of you stood at different sides of bars. He felt responsible for your well being although he knew you can take care of yourself. You had to do it for half a decade anyway. Yet, something inside of him was making him anxious.

As the two of you reunited it was time to slowly explore the unknown area. It was quite peaceful there but also empty. There probably used to grow trees and more stuff but now it was just a few twigs here and there. The lair felt like one big crater with several ruins shattered around with one bigger at the entrance. To probably keep invaders off. That’s it if they could get through the wind barrier. But it was gone now, so of course you would meet something here.

Hilichurls had several camps around the whole area. Making you wonder if they were living here ever since or just recently moved in. Also wild animals, which was even weirder as you knew animals are sensitive to elemental energy. And just until recently there was a huge concentration of anemo.

To your surprise or maybe not, you had encountered a few more ruin guards. However as you are two it was no huge issue to deal with them. The only issue was it started raining during one of the encounters. Deciding it was kind of pointless to hide as your clothes were already wet so why not explore a bit more.

The fourth encounter with a ruin guard was quite more challenging for you than the rest. It seemed different than the others, it was bigger and more sturdier and hit like a truck. You were rubbing your wrist. It seemed alright however your sword didn't look so well. It was more than visible how the steel was slightly curved as you had to use it to block one of its attacks.

Looking up at Kaeya who was examining the destroyed colossus. Having a hand on his chin, thinking of something.

"Hmm, I just realized this is our second time being just the two of us and it's again raining." Rising his head and giving you a playful wink.

You just chuckled at his remark. He was not wrong. Ever since you got back you two didn't see each other that often. Kaeya was sort of avoiding you or so it seemed like. Until you accidently ran into him one day. You were hungry and decided to dine at Good Hunter. Before he could disappear you spoke up. Teasing him to yet again chickening out which obviously made him look back at you. Sometimes he is so easy to challenge.

In the end you sorted out everything over a double honey sticky roast. Talking about stuff like nothing, like you weren’t separated or anything. Since then you kept seeing each other here and now. Be at the tavern or when you were passing by the knights. Dropping by, knocking at doors and just exchanging a few words before you ran off to do your tasks.

"Still. It's so strange. Why is there so many of those oversized toys? And what's more strange. How the hell did Aether pass by without coming across any of them?!"

You pouted, arms crossed on your chest. When you come back to Monds you will have to ask the blonde.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this was Abyss Order's makings." The bluenette answered and pointed towards something that looked like a small cave. "Let's head there and rest."

The cave was big enough to fit both of you in. However the issue was you were soaked and there was no way to make fire. Unless Kaeya will magically pull out of nowhere a few dry sticks. Luckily you had packed a blanket which surprised the iceman. Scoffing at him.

"What? I am an adventurer now, might not be a fully fledged one. But still I'm always ready!"

"Always ready, huh."

His remark made you blush, you did not expect it. Well, maybe you did but still you reacted this way. ‘Why must he be like this?!’ Coughing a little.

"What I mean is. I always carry with me this little fuzzy blanket. It was my first thing I bought when I got here. And not once it proved to be useful. Also! I got some canned food!" You chirped happily.

Ok, this surprised him even more. When he asked you to accompany him on a small venture. He did not expect you to bring an entire survival kit. The bag was not even that huge. How do women stuff so many things into such small bags?

"Let me guess. You got there packed your entire bedroom." He joked as he took one of the cans from you. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, instead giving him a spoon.

Kaeya checked what's on the menu. Some veggies and ground meat. Not the fanciest thing he ever ate but better than nothing. All that fighting made him quite hungry after all. He won’t admit it but he quite enjoyed this little adventure with you. It’s been so long since he could fight side by side with his friend. The way you swung your blade and used the cryo vision to obliterate enemies. Color him impressed, not once he wanted to just whistle.

When you had finished the very modest lunch it was still raining which meant you will be stuck there for a while. You stood up to pull the blanket over your friend and realized it’s not that big as you thought. Sitting next to him, your shoulders were brushing against each other. For some reason you could feel heat in your cheeks. Rather looking outside, hoping he didn’t see it. Otherwise you can ready up for another wave of teasing.

"It's sad none of us have pyro, we could dry our clothes." You whined while trying not to shake.

Suddenly feeling Kaeya's breath at you ear. "Dear, that would require you to be naked for a certain period of time." He whispered in a teasy manner. You didn’t look at him but you are one hundred percent sure his smile is dangerously wide.

The way you groaned, ears turned red despite all of your efforts. Kaeya was more than satisfied. It took him awhile to find out how to make you feel embarrassed. Now he just found deliberate joy in teasing you all the time.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" You murmured with an annoyed voice. Eyes still locked at cave entrance. How long will it take until it stops raining?

The sound of rain drops landing on the ground was quite relaxing. It didn't take long until you felt really sleepy. Trying to keep eyes open was close to impossible.

"Kaeya?"

The bluenette hummed in response.

"Talk to me or I will fall asleep..."

He did not want to admit it but he was already half asleep. The only thing which kept him awake was your occasional shaking. Silently chuckling as he turned head to you.

"I've got a better idea. Do you remember that one night when you were sleeping over and couldn't sleep. When I found you looking out of the window in the middle of night?"

Shaking your head, not remembering anything at all. Wondering how he can remember something like that.

"Well, we ended up watching out of the window together. Sitting on a chair while you were leaning on me. We fell asleep and the maids woke us up in the morning. Questioning why we weren't in beds."

Really? Did they? Why can't you recall anything like that? Giving Kaeya a confused look.

"How could we fit one chair-" As you finished it, the answer flashed through your mind. Finally you get what he meant with lean on him.

Not even giving it a second thought you shifted in front of him, hesitantly pressing your back on his chest. If you did this as kids then it clearly felt different than now. You were not sure if the warm feeling was caused by your flushed cheeks. Feeling like your entire body is burning right now. Or if it was because of how Kaeya put the blanket over the two of you and wrapped one hand around your waist.

"Don't mind that hand. I just want to have you secure.~"

"Secure for what?"

"In case you slide to side while sleeping, silly."

"I'm not going to sleep. It's embarrassing and worst is you are having fun!" You protested, pouting once again.

He could not deny the fact he found this whole situation amusing. Not even feeling guilty for his little lie. You are such a cutie when you are pouting like that

"The real embarrassing thing would be you shifting around and waking up my-"

"What the- Kaeya!" You groaned and wanted to get up but couldn't as his hand kept you in place.

"Shh, I'm just joking, Dearie. Relax. Let's just keep each other warm." Pulling you closer, feeling how your muscles relaxed a bit.

There was silence between you for a while. You were wishing he can't hear your heart beating so loud for no reason. The butterfly feeling in your stomach was lingering there for the whole time.

"You better not run your mouth about this to anyone, or..." You whispered silently, not even bothering to finish the sentence.

"Or? What's wrong about two friends being close, hmm?"

"I dunno." Admitting while completely relaxing against him and closing eyes. You are too tired to bother about anything.

Previous ✨ Next

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #i wonder where this will take us #f!reader #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kaeya #diluc #kaeya #fiery series #what could go wrong?

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

The Void

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x mutant!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, HYDRA’s experiments, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, captivity, home invasion, stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 2381.

Summary: Once an ordinary human, you keep running away from both HYDRA and Avengers, knowing what your powers will be used for. The problem is the Soldat picking up your trail.

P.S. The reader is somewhat dark-ish in this one.

________________

Carefully slipping inside the laundry room through a broken window, you landed on the cold concrete floor and shivered, hoping you could find a really warm blanket somewhere upstairs.

Although you still felt a bit ashamed breaking in the houses of other people like that, at this point it was the one and only alternative you had. Of course, there was always an option to submit to HYDRA or whoever else was hunting you down, but you didn’t really appreciated it, simply trying to stay away from both heroes and villains since to you they were all the same. You knew perfectly well once somebody captured you they’d be using you for murdering other people.

Thankfully, laundry room wasn’t locked, and you started wandering the house, peeping into each and every room. Watching photos of the family the house belonged to, you felt guilty again. These people weren’t at fault you were homeless and chased out from every damn place on the Earth, but you still took what was theirs just because you could find no other way to live. Well, at least you tried to leave the place as it had been prior to your break-in, except a broken window in the laundry room and canned beans you’d eat.

God, you could kill for a bowl of homemade chicken soup. You barely remembered eating it before HYDRA captured you a few years ago. Of course, they didn’t try to starve you there, but you couldn’t call what they’d been giving you real food either. Thinking of your cell and those meals made you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. Everywhere was better than there, so you needed to put your shit together and take whatever fate offered you.

It was getting late, and you glanced at the tiny window in the basement, wrapped in a big grey comforter you brought from upstairs. You never slept in the rooms of other people, not knowing when the rightful owners of the houses you broke in could come back. Generally, you didn’t have problems with people, either escaping before their return or finding your way out secretly without them knowing somebody was hiding in their basement. However, sometimes you had a feeling people hunting you were coming close, and you didn’t risk getting too comfortable. Today was one of those days, and you bit down on your lower lip. These ones were probably not HYDRA operatives - they’d never risk attacking you at night when your powers were at peak. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean whoever was coming for you was harmless. You had to be prepared.

That’s it. Somebody was approaching, you could feel it in your bones. It was probably the one and only thing you were grateful to HYDRA - you were nearly invincible in the dark.

Silently leaving the comforter on the floor near an empty can, you got up, moving to stand near the wall behind the door, hardened black mass blocking tiny windows and leaving the intruder only one way to get in. You hoped they weren’t bringing explosives as you still had a hard time compressing the darkness around them - a month ago it resulted in some serious damage done to the house where you were hiding.

But this time was different: there was only one man who came for you, A strange man, though. He had a metal arm, and his body… It was something you had never felt before. The man was like that Duracell bunny they showed in TV ad, enhanced to the point he was barely human, probably.

But he was still just a man, now all alone with a monster like you.

When he entered quietly, leaving the door barely open, you blew it off its hinges. You had very little patience - now you would have to have a sleepless night, trying to find a new hideout as far as you could from this place and hoping HYDRA wouldn’t track you down. Its operatives were way more creative in their attempts to catch you: that mirror box trapping light nearly killed you last time.

Wrapping your fists into black mass like boxing gloves, you punched the man, but he quickly moved away, apparently, more skilled in combat than you were. Well, whatever, you thought as the darkness disintegrated on top of your skin, and then the intruder got a direct blow to his stomach without you getting near him. Coming to you at night was a suicide.

You kept beating him down until he dropped to the cold floor of the basement, beads of sweat and blood shining on his skin as you pinned him down, completely unharmed. You did your best to avoid the vital organs, but it was probably unnecessary - you could literally feel the soldier regenerating while he laid down, staring at the ceiling. Was he HYDRA’s creation just like you were? Or did good guys make beasts like him, too?

“I won’t do anything to you,” you told him, coming closer to look into his surprisingly handsome face, “but I’ll kill whoever you send to catch me next.”

“HYDRA’s… coming after you.” The soldier muttered, coughing and wincing from pain as you towered above him.

“You or them, doesn’t matter much.”

A part of you felt remorse for beating the stranger so bad he couldn’t rip the restraints holding him down despite his enormous strength, but the other part made you remember you were the victim, not him. The only thing you ever wanted was living like a human being, not a lab rat or a weapon of mass destruction used by whoever hold you hostage.

Besides, if this guy didn’t know the nature of your powers before attacking you, now he certainly did. It was unwise to let him live - he would definitely let his masters know - but you couldn’t force yourself to end him. Killing wasn’t nice. You had never enjoyed it.

“Avengers can protect you.”

What? Did the man work for them, then? You smirked, shaking you head.

“Avengers can’t protect themselves. Now please be quiet and let me leave. We’re done for today.” Turning your back at him, you went to grab your backpack and then put a few cans in it to continue your journey, tired and upset you couldn’t rest despite travelling all day long.

“I can help you.”

You abruptly turned to face him still chained to the floor and clenched your teeth. This was what HYDRA’s men were telling you year after year. Helping you, that what they were doing.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to plant spikes right through your tongue.” You hissed at him, going back and watching him with his pretty mouth finally shut. “If you wanna play a hero so much, go wipe HYDRA out and forget I’ve ever existed.”

The soldier stayed silent, and you exhaled angrily, marching through the basement to the stairs and quickly going up. God knew how many people could be waiting for you outside of the house - Avengers were usually gathering together on the missions, even you knew that from occasionally seeing them in the news.

Shit, it was going to be a long night.

________________________

One more month was gone as you continued to run and hide like the world’s top criminal, chased out of many cities where you could find peace for at least a couple of days. Now it was mostly one-night sleepovers anywhere you could find. You finally understood what being a mad dog meant - sometimes you thought you could kill for those canned beans you hated so much before.

Slowly, but surely you were running out of options where to hide. The only place now was the forest surrounding that little town where you relocated after your brief encounter with HYDRA two days ago. Forest was a bad place to be. You had very little skills allowing you to survive out in the wild for long. The more you thought about that, the more you realized you had, in fact, only one option left.

Suicide. Only then you could become truly free of that mad chase and ensure no one would use your abilities for killing others. You already had enough blood on your hands.

And still, when you though of black spikes piercing your head, you were shaking. It would be so much easier if somebody just shot you when you weren’t looking.

Huh, what a cruel world you lived in, you thought while finishing a can of chicken ham - God, you didn’t even remember when you ate something so delicious. It was harder to imagine killing yourself after a good meal, but you still considered the option, looking at the carpet with a dull expression on your face.

You were euphoric after your escape from that facility where you were held, and now you were thinking maybe it was better to just wither there like all those countless men and women before you, unable to contain their enormous powers in pathetic human bodies. What was the point of being so strong if you couldn’t have your life back? What were these powers for except the destruction? You’d gladly exchange your fantastic abilities on a chance to return home to your family. That is, if HYDRA let it be, which was unlikely.

You blinked, tired to the point you barely felt your own body. If they’d decide to come for you now, you probably couldn’t dodge the attack this time.

But it wasn’t HYDRA who came for you - with a syringe in your neck, you suddenly fell down to the floor, watching the handsome face of a man who had seemingly emerged from the wall behind you like a ghost. What was that? Was he like you, too? You didn’t sense it in him the first time, but maybe the soldier was more dangerous than you anticipated. Well, he certainly was, you thought as he carried you upstairs like a firefighter escaping the burning house. Would he lock you down in a cell, too? Would he let his masters experiment on you for the sake of humanity? Would he kill you once you closed your eyes?

Before the soldier reached the front entrance, you had already lost consciousness under the influence of the drag he injected.

The darkness that followed should had been calming, soothing, as you only felt safe in complete darkness, but you couldn’t find your peace: it was cold and lonely and scary when you were falling down deeper and deeper into the black void. Did he kill you, then? Was it the end? Would you spend your eternity in the dark?

It certainly felt like eternity before you woke up, still in the middle of nowhere, but feeling a soft mattress beneath your back. Your arms and legs hurt - it felt like you were tied up to bed. However, the fabric of your clothes was nothing like the ones you wore before the assault. It felt soft, and smelled pretty nice, too.

But you still saw nothing, nothing at all. Everything was pitch black.

Were you in a dark room? A cell? Whatever, you could work with it, you though and called the darkness as if it was a part of you.

And nothing happened.

You called again, then once more and once more, but the darkness didn’t free you. It didn’t answer to your plea - it wasn’t there at all.

Suddenly, you realized there was no darkness surrounding you as you heard a subtle buzz of dozen projectors directed right at you. The darkness was in your head because they blinded you.

You were screaming and crying and jolting on the bed, trying your best to break free, crush the metal headboard, do anything at all to just touch your eyes, discover what they did to you as you felt nothing but numbness and some tingling. Did they pluck out your eyes? Did they take them out because it would be easier to control you once you lost your eyesight?

You didn’t know whether you were still screaming when you felt a stranger’s hand on your cheek as he sat down on the bed. Exhausted and horrified, you tried kicking him, but the restraints kept you in place as he lowered his head to your face, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

Oh, it was him. It was the soldier who had emerged from the wall of the house you were hiding the last time.

“What did you… do to me?” Breathing hard, you yanked your head to the side to avoid his touch. Huh, safe, that how he called it. HYDRA or Avengers, there had never been any difference to you.

“I had to temporarily blind and drug you. The effect will wash off in a few days.”

With that, you forgot how to breathe for a couple of seconds. Temporarily? Did it mean you eyes would be alright? Did he not pop your eyes out of their sockets?

“Please, calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

You stayed quiet, but not because the soldier asked you to. You just laid there, listening to the buzz of the projectors and thinking you would be able to see something again. For a few seconds you were filled with a bitter sense of triumph. Maybe you were crying again, though you couldn’t really feel the tears streaming down your face.

Oh, how could you wish to die? How could you even think of committing suicide? No, no, never again, even if you’d have to break each and every bone in the bodies of your enemies, and rip their heads off. Whatever it takes just never to return to that black void again.

“No one knows you’re here.” The soldier said somewhere close to your face, and you furrowed your brows. “HYDRA won’t find you.”

“Until you push me to the battlefield.” You sneered, still furious he did such a horrible thing to you, leaving you here like that.

“Avengers don’t know you here either.”

Laughing sarcastically, you fell silent as you felt his flesh hand touching your cheek and brushing the hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry, I will fulfill your wish.” You could smell the metal of his breath. “You won’t exist for anyone but me.”

_______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @iheartsebastianstan @stargazingfangirl18 @ninefuckingoneone

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier #yandere #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader

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chews-erotically · 4 years

Photo

Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

* Warnings: Angst, illness

* Summary: You must find your way off of the Green as the toxic effects of your environment finally take hold.

* Word Count: ~1400 or so

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*

PART SIX

Time moved on the Green like a boulder rolling down a hill, careening quickly with a wicked force of gravity until it reached one of many plateaus or stop-gaps, and it then it. Crawled.

Your perception of time often depended on what was happening on any given day, and increasingly you grew weary and felt the drag of days like a weight of sand around your shoulders. You grew restless.

Each day melted into another, hot and mundane. You began to yearn for your escape, to turn over the ramifications of having to stay over in your mind like a gruesome obsession. You tried to keep it down, swallow your despair. It wouldn’t help anything to complain, to wring your hands and wail over the unfairness of your circumstances. You were stranded here and that was that. You tried to keep your head down, eyes forward, and slog through each day as it stretched into a dull eternity.

Ezra was nothing if not perceptive. He would softly comment on the mournful gaze that would cross your face and cloud your eyes. How it was agony for him, how he would do anything to take this away. You did not want to burden him, you hated that he worried about you. You would flash him as winning a smile as you could muster, but it did not reach your eyes. Your only comfort was in his arms, in the way that he’d come to you in the tent and wordlessly wrap his arms around you. Hold you so close to him, as if he were trying to absorb you, to siphon off your sadness. Sometimes he held you because he was sad too. At night, you clung to one another as if afraid you’d drift away.

It was during one particularly hot and oppressive morning that you awoke once again alone. It happened from time to time, more often now than in the past. Ezra would awaken before the dawn, suiting up and trekking out into the Green, looking for other life, any sign of anything that could help get you gone from here. He would invariably return and remove his helmet with a heavy sigh.

“Next time, perhaps.”

“We’re getting low on food, Ez.”

“I know.”

“We can’t eat aurelac, Ez.”

“I know.”

“We need to come up with a contingency plan for when it happens.”

“We will do whatever we must.”

Something you didn’t discuss as often was the dry, hacking coughs you were developing. Your air cycler was working less efficiently, a product of unavoidable overuse. The cyclers were meant to be finite, replaced every few months. You’d taken to cleaning the filters as well as you could, but you’d had to wear your helmets while you cleaned, and those filters were beginning to fail as well.

So when you awoke on that particular morning you were coughing so forcefully you retched. You leaned over the side of the cot and spit. It was grey. You knew now you would die here, and it would be torturous and slow. The spores would build in the sacs of your lungs until you could do nothing more than gasp weakly for each gulp of air.

When Ezra returned, he whipped off his helmet much more forcefully than usual. He rushed to you and fell to his knees. You knew immediately something was different- his eyes were wide and wild, his hands trembled on the thin, rumpled blankets.

“I saw a streak. In the sky. A vessel burning up on entry. Someone landed just west of here...it happened right before my eyes. We may have a spectre of hope in this hell, Dove.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“You…..you’re sure??”

“I swear to you, may Kevva strike me down where I kneel. It has to be a cruiser or drop-pod by the size of the flames.”

You reached out to grab his hand, squeezing. His eyes searched your face.

“I’ll get dressed.”

This was a gift, and you viewed it as such. But you knew that you both needed to be so, so careful. You did not know who these interlopers were, you did not know their intentions or the condition of their craft. Landing could be rough in the heavily forested Green, if the vessel was a smaller one, as Ezra seemed to think, it may work to your advantage. You needed to be sure.

You quickly suited up, helmet on, filter rattling weakly. You took what you could, but you did not plan to return. The aurelac you’d harvested over the course of months was packed away to bursting in your rucksacks, and there was room for little else. You’d each grabbed some water and a few nutri-bars. You paused to sweep one last look around the tent where you’d cried, where you’d held low conversation and read and fucked. Events of the past few hours had happened so fast that your head was spinning, strangely blank. You were leaving. You were going to a means of escape or to your death. You felt calm about either option in the stillness of the morning.

You thanked the tent silently, and you hoped it burned.

Ezra led the way, and you started your journey. He’d estimated that you should reach your target by early afternoon.

Your filters were connected for the time being to maximize filtration. This did not stop your unease as you watched the condensation of your breath forming against the plexi of your viewing portal. Every few minutes either Ezra or yourself would cough. It was a dry, barking sound over the static of the comlink. For the most part you remained silent and tried to stick to hand signals when a change in terrain or pace needed to be relayed between you. You had to conserve oxygen, and speaking was an undue exertion unless strictly necessary.

You’d come upon the burned clearing a bit before Ezra’s projection, judging by the position of the anchoring planet in the sky. The vessel was indeed a cruiser, which was fortuitous in that it moved quicker and offered more stability than a pod.

You both crouched well away from the cruiser, out of sight. Ezra held his thrower at his side, you had his blaster at your waist. You waited.

A particularly nasty coughing fit doubled you over at one point. You coughed so long and hard that your vision began to swim, black dots sparking over the horizon of your sight.

Ezra held onto you ensuring you would not fall over into the moss under your feet. His arm circled your shoulders. When the fit had eventually and blessedly passed his hand was rubbing firm circles into your back. His helmet knocked against yours. When you raised your eyes to his, fear and heartbreak were plain on his face. You understood that things had progressed to the point where he could no longer hide this from you. Your chest ached and burned.

A commotion ahead in the clearing broke the spell of your mutual despair. You both froze before turning forward towards the craft.

The hatch was opening, there was movement from within. Eventually a platform extended to the ground below, and two figures shambled forward with a third held between them.

They appeared to be mercenaries, holding fast to a restrained prisoner. The prisoner kicked and pulled weakly between them- they had most likely been sedated. Not enough to feel numb to the agony of suffocation, but enough to be handled without too much trouble.

You were looking at an execution crew.

The mercs were grunting and growling back and forth in a language you did not recognize.

Ezra remained frozen beside you, eyes trained ahead razor-sharp. Predatory.

Your hand on your blaster, you cleared your head of thought as the first waves of adrenaline started pumping through you. Slowly, so slowly, Ezra reached for you. He clasped your hand. Squeezed three times. His eyes moved to catch yours. An imperceptible nod.

You nodded back.

They had to die.

After one more impossible beat of pregnant inaction you both stood and stepped forward.

#chews-erotically writes #Ezra #ezra prospect

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givemeonebreath · 3 years

Text

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again. We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling. But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through. In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you.

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this But I just don't have the patience anymore

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream And you want to shout But you've built up steam And you can't let it out This is pressure

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water Can't go on Can't go back Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #listening to music while I stare blankly at nothing is legit my number one hobby #and then shit like this happens #linked universe playlist

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onepostthenbacktothevoidigo · 3 years

Text

Working Title: What Was Once Called André

Hello! My name’s Emma and I’m trying to get better at writing, so I literally just need somebody to tell me if this is absolute garbage or not lol, I am incapable of self reflection. I’m Australian, so if you’re American and see spelling you think is wrong, please double check it’s not just a dialect difference before letting me know. Otherwise, I’d really appreciate any comments you want to leave :)

That first night on the boat was the worst, I think. The waves were still violent from the previous day’s storm, and they rocked the vessel back and forth until I came close to simply throwing myself into the water and being done with it all. Eventually I must have fallen asleep, because when I next opened my eyes it was to the kind of picturesque scene portrayed in a thousand paintings, not the raucous and terrifying reality I still remember all too well.

There wasn’t much to do after that. They had been sure to supply me with enough basic necessities to last three times my sentence, along with a few medical supplies and a pocket knife. With survival no longer a worry, it became very clear to me just how boring this journey was going to be. The first week I managed to entertain myself by watching seabirds hunt for their unsuspecting prey beneath the water, but this soon grew tiresome, and I moved on to other methods of passing the time. I once scooped ocean water up in the palm of my hand, and held it as still as was manageable in full view of the sun until all that remained was a few clusters of salty crystals.

I became accustomed to hearing the strange howling of the wind at night. If I tried hard enough, I could convince my mind that it was actually a free and wild beast, floating around on a boat like mine, condemned to the lonely company of its own mind just as I was. It was comforting to believe that I was not alone in my misery, that even on the days when the only thing I could bring myself to do was close my eyes and dream of home, somebody was doing it along with me.

After a time, facing another day simply seemed too much to bear, and I began sleeping longer than They had ever allowed me to in the days leading up to my trial. On the occasions when sleep would not come, I took to staring out at the water and letting my mind drift to whatever fanciful matters it pleased. I had many lives, the four months I spent on that boat. I became a King, beloved by my people and feared by those who wronged me. I was a famed poet, travelling the mountains of Osmen and spreading my verse wherever people would hear it.

Twice I fell in love, although just with whom I am not sure. Her face always had a strange foggy quality to it, like a dream you cannot quite recall. I have found that I despise that feeling, when you possess every part of a memory you wish to look back on except for the most vital detail. I am sure it was the same person both times, however. If you are to take any part of this reflection as truth, let that statement be it. I am so sure of it because in both of the lifetimes we spent together, she had a strange habit of tapping the knuckle of her index finger thrice against every door frame she came across. The only frame she did not do this with was mine. I once enquired as to why my home was exempt from the rule, but she simply smiled, that loving smirk which she reserved especially for me, and turned back to whatever great symphony she was crafting before I had spoken. She was a wonderful composer, my fantasy love. I mourn the loss of her refrains which this world will never get to hear.

I often contemplated remaining in these daydreams, keeping my eyes closed and letting my mortal body rot away, eroded by the salt water, eaten by the birds which in the early days I had tried so very hard to enjoy the company of. I imagined my flesh being ripped away, cleanly and without complaint, a group of birds greedily fighting over who got the brain, home to all of my little wisdom; the eyeball, which saw the best the world could offer and was still unsatisfied; the stomach, which even filled with the finest delicacies Osmen had to offer still held a constant craving for the home cooked food of my childhood. The muscle structures, the blood cells and ligaments which were once such a fundamental part of my being, pulled viciously apart by beaks, teeth, and claws until they were finally gone, existing only in the memories of those who once called them André.

I pictured my bones picked clean of all that had previously weighed them down. I saw them being lifted up by that howling wind, and given bit by bit to those who cared for me. My mother would open her door to find a neatly placed hand, fingers unfurled to make up for all the times when she needed somebody to hold and I was not there. For my sister, a femur, because she always told the André she knew that she envisioned a cane made out of one for when she grew old and decrepit. The damage from the ocean water might mean that mine would no longer be appropriate for this purpose, but I hope she would appreciate the gesture all the same.

My friends would receive a rib each. I have no clue as to what they may do with these, but it felt only right to give the group a matching item, and I am more than sure that they would find some way to make use of them. Perhaps they would pretend to joust with each other, like we did with sticks in the schoolyard as children.

As one last joke played on my poor, patient tutors, the rest of my limbs and torso would be scattered throughout the halls of their various academies; rotted, festering clues all pointing towards an end which despite all of their brilliance they could never hope to fully understand.

My skull would be carried for many miles before reaching its final resting place. It would take the journeys I was never able to, see the world through hollowed out eyes which had never before held their gaze long enough to experience anything that mattered. It would enjoy a life of its own, the wind facilitating its travels, allowing it to swerve through busy markets and scale mountains unfathomable to those still bound to the Earth by names.

It would knock up against the window as André the king declared the success of the latest in his long line of crusades, its feeble noise drowned out by the cheering of a crowd who had never known peace. The whistling of wind through an exposed nasal cavity would stop André the poet during the most poignant line of his most recent masterpiece, a poor performance which would haunt him until his extraordinary mind finally broke, leaving behind a shell of the man who once was.

The skull would finally land, gently, and many years after it first set out on that boat, after the brain which had once fought so hard to stay hopeful inside of its confines had decomposed. It would lie still for a moment, a jarring contrast to the near constant movement it had experienced since André had stopped and it had begun. Then it would begin rolling and rolling, faster and faster until the only thing its phantom eyes could see would be a blur of ocean waves, mixing with the clear, picturesque sky until everything the world once was would become one homogenous blue. Where its ears once were, it would sense the howling wind it had grown so used to start up again, although it wasn’t sure when exactly it had stopped. As it came crashing into the side of some Thing, it would finally realise that this was the end of the life it had so briefly come to know. And as it faced the sky, seeing dark clouds indicative of a storm in the distance, it would be met with the face of a ghoul, a phantom creature which had been watching, waiting for the arrival what was once André ever since he had pushed off from the shore.

In that moment, the final remnants of what was once called André let out a silent plea, a desperate prayer for anyone who might be listening. It asked for the wind to pick it up again, to take it on more adventures, interrupt more of what could have been. And the Wind listened; it longed with all that it was to be able save its companion from this fate. But the beast did not care for such mercies, and so with a howl so gargantuan it rustled the trees half an ocean away in Osmen, it crushed the skull of what was once called André into a powder so fine even the most vicious of birds could not rip it apart any further.

#writing #creativewriting #shortstory #ambiguous ending #new writer #why am i doing this i have a crippling fear of being perceived oh well

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